Perspective
by ladyofdarkstar
Summary: Four young crewmen on board the ISD Chimaera come to terms with Imperial service, each other, and living legends in the midst of war. Where will their paths take them? Whose attention will they catch? And what decisions will shape their future? Events begin with portions of Heir to the Empire and go slightly AU. May touch on Empire of the Hand AU. Reviews are love!
1. Chapter 1 - Two Minutes

A/N: This story idea came to me while re-reading Heir to the Empire, particularly the scene where Crewmen Pieterson dies. I often wondered what the crewmen around Pieterson thought of the incident, and how their days went both before and after... and thusly this plot bunny was born. Please read and review. I love hearing ideas and constructive criticism on where I need to improve to make the story great.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Star Wars and its characters are owned by people with more money than I can ever imagine. Please don't sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

It was 0530 and I was nowhere near where I needed to be.

"This is so not good," I muttered to myself, weaving my way around the throngs of officers just coming off the night shift, hoping against all hope that there was still space in the turbolift for me. It was my first day on board the _Chimaera_ as an official crewman - not just a trainee - and it was my luck that I'd overslept. Ensign Colclazure was going to have a field day with me.

Technically my shifted started at 0530, and given the way the turbolifts moved around here, I could be at my post before the chronometer read 0531. But procedure required all crewmen to be at their post two minutes – minimum – before the shift change. Just in case there were additional orders or such things that needed to be addressed before night shift rotated to day. That, and it ensured a smooth transition so that no station was ever left unmanned for any period of time.

Two minutes. I was two minutes late already, and my day wasn't looking any brighter.

Of course the lift corridor was crowded down near the barracks, the outpouring of tired personnel turning a normally quiet section of the ship into a riot of comments and laughter. It was not permitted to joke while on duty, and side conversations not dealing with the assigned task at hand could earn a person something worse than a reprimand. That made shift change one of the most vibrant and active times… save for the middle of an actual battle, that is.

I tried not to frown as I slid into the lift, barely settling my uniform cap in place. I though the hat was a little silly, but it was part of the uniform. And lowly little crewmen like me hadn't the authority to actually _have_ an opinion on things like military dress. Come to think of it, we didn't have the authority to have an opinion on anything really. Still, the hat had its uses. Like hiding the fact that my hair was a lot longer than standard protocol allowed. (Don't ask how I managed to pull that one off. It took more favors and bribes to the commissary officer than I wanted to admit.) I'd been forced to give up a lot when I was conscripted from my home world. My hair wasn't one of those things I was willing to part with. Call it a last great act of defiance.

The lift doors parted, and I had about half a second to compose myself. I was just a crewman, I told myself in an effort to calm my nerves. No one aside from my officer cared a wit to notice me. This was my first real experience on the bridge, and in a few seconds I would be seated at one of the starboard tractor beam control stations. Which was nothing to be nervous about, right? Right?

The looming thundercloud that was Ensign Colclazure managed to shatter that little illusion for me. Oh, there was plenty to be nervous about. Especially the way he took his time to glance ever-so-casually at his wrist chronometer and then back at me. It wasn't a friendly glance in the slightest.

Two little minutes late. Two!

And Ensign Colclazure looked ready to chew deck plating.

Mentally I braced myself for the reprimand, moving to stand to the right of my assigned post so that my counterpart could exit to the left in good old standard procedure. Crewman Forde, the before mentioned counterpart, gave me one of those looks that was half annoyance and half pity. I'd kept him a whole two minutes longer than he was assigned, but he was still kind enough to recognize a fellow crewman that was about to get a dressing down when he saw one.

For reasons I couldn't really explain, I gave him a little wink. I couldn't help myself. I'd never sat down and had a conversation with Crewman Forde before, but I could tell by the look of him that he was probably in the Imperial Navy with hopes of a command of his own one day. My wink was most likely the last thing he had thought to see from me. Maybe that was why I did it. Maybe some part of me thought he was attractive. And maybe, just maybe, it was because I was scared.

Yeah, okay, it was definitely because I was scared. I'd freely admit that. I'd heard the horror stories about the Empire's leadership in the past – the stories about Lord Vader in particular – and being assigned to the flag ship of Grand Admiral Thrawn had done nothing to lessen the fear of those stories. Granted, there weren't any rumors about him flying off the handle and killing crewmen for no reason (or for being two stinking tiny minutes late!). But that wasn't any reason to believe he was a softy. Hell, it was a reason to believe he was worse. Nothing scarier than a man that did _everything_ with deliberate and precise reasoning.

Crewman Forde exited the seat and I caught the back as it swiveled in my direction. Before I could sit down and log in, Ensign Colclazure's hand gripped my upper arm hard enough to leave a bruise and turned me to face him. To say I went pale was like saying the stars only marginally burned bright. Yet some of the harshness left his face at my reaction. Probably because I looked like I was going to pass out right there at his feet. I certainly felt like I was. He was still upset with me, but at least he was no longer ready to eat my face.

"I expect my subordinates to follow protocol to the letter, Miss Idelas," he said quietly, releasing my arm and folding his hands behind his back. "Given this is your first official day on duty, I'm going to allow your disregard for timely arrivals and presenting yourself to your officer to slide without a formal reprimand. Provided that this type of behavior does not occur again. Is that clear?"

I had to swallow twice before I had enough moisture in my mouth to make sounds other than croaks. "Y-yes, sir," I managed, trying to stand at full attention. "It won't happen again. I have no excuse to offer."

He pursed his lips, his gaze feeling like it was boring into my skull. "At least you learned that much," he replied coldly. "I do not tolerate excuses."

"No, sir."

This was real, I kept telling myself. No more mistakes. No more expecting constructive criticism as I worked my way through the complicated training package for my station. I was in Imperial service now, really and truly in service. My failures would be judged with equal measures of reality. Suddenly I regretted my stupid little 'act of defiance' in keeping my stupid shoulder length black hair. Like it was anything special to begin with! My hair would grow back if they cut it. My _life_ wouldn't grow back if my superior officer decided to cut _that_ off instead.

Yeah, I was scared. Terrified.

He held my gaze for another couple of seconds before nodding. "Take your station, Crewman Idelas." It was clearly a dismissal.

"Yes, sir," I sat down before my legs gave out beneath me. The whole confrontation couldn't have taken more than a couple of minutes, and yet I felt like I'd just run for miles. And still, I couldn't keep my mouth shut. "Uh, sir?"

Ensign Colclazure turned around with one of those perfect military turns that I had yet to master. "Yes, crewman?"

I took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "Sir, may I request extra lessons when you have the time? In Imperial procedures and protocol, I mean to say. I… feel like my behavior reflects poorly on myself and this team. I want to correct that as soon as possible."

Something passed through his eyes at that, something that could have been... approval? Amusement? Did the corner of his mouth twitch in an almost smile at my request? Was I that rattled by this whole incident that I was hallucinating this entire thing?

"Granted," he replied, his eyes loosing that… whatever it was I thought I saw… and turning hard with command once again. "Log into your station and tend to your duties."

My reply of 'yes sir' might have been little more than a squeak. I turned and did as he requested, trying to loose myself in the flow of data that came my way and in shoveling other bits of data to the other crewers that needed it. Two whole minutes late, I couldn't help but reflect. Two whole minutes that had changed my entire perspective on Imperial service and my place within it. I was willing to bet it would take me about two minutes to run to the commissary and have them hack off my hair after shift, too.

And as if the universe and the number two were mocking me, about two minutes after Ensign Colclazure had walked away, I felt as if I was being watched. Cautiously I glanced up between my eyelashes, daring to take my attention from my station to look up at the command walkway. Glowing red eyes were staring down at me, a glint in them that was simultaneously unreadable and yet left me feeling as if I had just been measured on some galactic scale.

Again, it was only for about two minutes before Grand Admiral Thrawn continued down the command walkway. Leaving me wondering if I had just measured up to his standards or had been found wanting…


	2. Chapter 2 - A New Friend

A/N: In this chapter we meet the second and third crewmen in our little story. Thank you all for have taken the time to read. The private messages are awesome and appreciated! I try to respond to each and every one. To the Thrawn fans out there, yes - he will play a major part in this story. So will Pellaeon. We just have to get there. (Which should be soon!)

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. I make no money from this. This is purely for fun. Please do not sue.

* * *

By the end of my shift, I could tell that my upper arm was indeed bruised. It was a subtle reminder, a dull pain that flared up each time I had to extend forward for buttons outside of casual arm's reach. I guess that, if the writers of all those fictional books were correct, I was supposed to embrace that pain. Use it as a reminder of sorts for the price of making mistakes or some such nonsense. Then again, I doubt any of these writers had ever spent even an hour in military service. If they had, they probably wouldn't have said such things about pain.

Crewman Forde arrived right on time (that is to say two minutes early), and I was never happier to exit the station in my entire life. While the day had not been too terribly bad aside from the morning's drama, I was stiff and sore from a twelve hour shift and ravenously hungry to boot. All that was on my mind was a trip to the 'fresher, a trip to the commissary for hair cutting, and a trip to the mess hall. It didn't matter if they were serving fillet of belt leather for dinner, I was going to eat it and be thankful for it.

I hadn't eaten anything the night before due to being a nervous wreck about my first day on duty. Given that I'd managed to make a mess of my morning anyway, I was planning to chow down and get a good night's rest. Tomorrow, as they say, was a new day and a fresh start. As if the thought of sleep was a cue to my body, my jaws tried to crack open in a yawn. It was a supreme effort of will to keep that from happening as I strode quickly across the crew pit towards the turbolift. If Imperial procedure frowned on being two minutes late to shift, I didn't want to know what expression it made if someone was so crass as to openly yawn on the bridge.

I stepped onto the turbolift, filing all the way into the back to make room for the rest of the shift change. I couldn't wait for the doors to close, to cut the image of the bridge from my eyes for at least twelve hours. I'd almost managed to forget the image of glowing eyes staring down at me, until I realized that Admiral Thrawn, his alien bodyguard, and Captain Pellaeon had stepped onto the turbolift with me. For the second time in twelve hours I felt the blood drain from my face. Glancing to my left and right, the other two crewman in the lift with me didn't look any better. If anything, we were sort of pressed as far back into the turbolift as possible without looking as if we were trying to merge with the plasteel walls.

The Admiral and the Captain said nothing as Captain Pellaeon keyed for whatever deck they were heading towards. Silently I prayed that their stop was way before ours. The last thing I wanted to do was catch the attention of the two scariest men in uniform on board this ship. I honestly didn't think I had enough left in me to attempt to brush past them if my stop happened before theirs. The other two crewmen - one I knew as Cris Pieterson from my own unit, and one I had only met in passing at orientation - seemed to share my silent plea. I resolved right then and there to stay on the damned lift until the Admiral and the Captain were out of it. I didn't care if I had to ride all the way down to engineering and pretend I had a reason to be there. I wasn't walking in front of either of them, not after my embarrassing behavior this morning.

Thankfully, they exited the turbolift two levels down from the bridge. The collective sigh of relief in the lift was palpable.

"Oh thank the Force," I muttered, sagging a little against the lift wall, rubbing at my bruised arm.

"You're telling me," the Nameless Crewman replied, running his hands over his face. "I think I would have passed out if I held my breath for a moment longer."

"Did you see the way that… that bodyguard was looking at us?" Pieterson added, staring at the spot in which said creature had stood as if he could still see him there. "Almost as if he wanted us to make a move. Like he wanted to gut us for fun."

Something in Pieterson's tone, in the way he continued to stare at the empty spot of floor, bothered me.

"I don't think it was that bad," I tried, attempting to sooth both Pieterson and myself. I hadn't missed the once-over that the creature had given us all, either. "I think he's just dedicated to his job, is all. I mean, imagine if your life depended on keeping a Grand Admiral alive? I think I'd view everything as a threat, too."

Pieterson was shaking his head, a frown replacing the fearful expression from before. "No, no it was more than that. I know it. They all are waiting for us to make a mistake so they can have fun killing us. Why else would they conscript us?"

Nameless and I exchanged glances, and Nameless edged a little further away from Pieterson. Apparently he didn't like Pieterson's look, either. "That's dangerous talk," Nameless said, voice low. "We're pressed into service until the war is over, then they'll let us go home."

"You really believe that?" Pieterson countered, an edge of something dark creeping into his voice. "No, they'll keep us until we die."

Nameless and Pieterson locked eyes, and I could feel a growing tension rising in the lift. It seemed all three of us were conscripted into service, pulled by force or threat of force from our homeworlds. And while Nameless and I had come to a sort of peace with our fate, Pieterson still harbored ill feelings. Ill feelings could easily grow into ill actions, and take the rest of the people around you down with you when you fell. Nameless, evidently, had no intention of falling with the likes of Pieterson. No matter what it took.

"You're both right, in part," I put in, trying to defuse the situation. "Remember, they put a lot of effort into training us. I think we're here for life or until we reach retirement age, but I don't think we're play toys to be discarded on a whim, either. If that was the case, I'd be dead right now. Or did you miss the little show between me and Ensign Colclazure this morning?"

Nameless lifted an eyebrow questioningly. Pieterson blushed with embarrassment. And just like that, the tension had passed.

"You okay?" Pieterson asked at last, glancing at the arm I was tenderly massaging. "He shouldn't have grabbed you like that. Conscript or not, you're still part of the crew. He can't manhandle you."

"I'm fine, and the incident was really my fault," I said, flicking a glance at Nameless and the question in his eyes. "I was late to my shift, and instead of presenting myself to my officer like I should have, I tried to take my station as if it didn't matter. He… corrected me on that."

"Ah," Nameless said, as if I had explained everything. After a moment of strained quiet in which both men tried to ignore my embarrassment, he extended his hand. "I'm Calim Tam, crewman on the communications team."

I took it, giving him a one-pump shake with my good hand. "Aria Idelas. This is Cris Pieterson. We're starboard tractor beam crew." The turbolift doors chose that moment to open, spilling us out into the general corridor leading to the mess hall. "Join me and Pieterson for some food?"

Nameless-now-called-Tam shrugged a shoulder. "Sure," he replied, following us into the chow line. "Though I have a question, if I may?"

"Shoot."

"If you knew you should have presented yourself to your officer this morning, why didn't you?"

It was my turn to shrug. "I was stupid and nervous. It's my first day officially. And all that beautiful training you read about? Well, it all went right out of my head. I brushed up on some basics during a lull in activity today and let's just say that I'll know better next time."

Tam winced in sympathy. "You certainly know how to make a first impression," he said with a slight smirk, picking up my tray and carrying it to an empty table so I could continue to work the soreness out of my arm.

I thought about that, and the feeling of glowing eyes staring down at me. "You aren't kidding, friend."


	3. Chapter 3 - First Lesson

A/N: Thanks again for all the kind reviews and encouragement in private messages. This chapter is for PrincessRulerOfAll. :)

A change in scene is represented by "*BRK*"

As always, I own nothing. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

Ensign Colclazure's office was little more than an over glorified closet. It was better than having to share the barracks room, and I supposed this was one of the rewards of being an actual officer and not just a crewman. Stuffed somehow into this space was a desk and chair, as well as a second chair in front of said desk. The man in question sat behind his desk, fingers busy on the computer station as he imputed whatever it was that Ensigns were required to imput into their daily reports. I stood at attention before him, hands clasped sharply behind my back and shoulders squared in a manner that I hoped was correct. Part of it was because I was dearly trying to be a good Imperial crewman. The other part of it was to keep my hands from roving towards the back of my neck, searching for the hair that had been cut off not twenty minutes ago.

It wasn't boyishly short, thank the stars, but it certainly didn't touch the collar of my jumpsuit. Just a blunt but neat cut to keep everything at one length, easily pinned up and back to stay out of my way.

The minutes ticked by, and I had the feeling that I was being further punished for my lack of following proper protocol from this morning. How long was he going to ignore me, I wondered.

"I'm not ignoring you, crewman," he said finally, as if reading my thoughts. "You asked for additional lessons in proper protocol. You are receiving them now."

Reflexively, I opened my mouth to ask how standing painfully at attention was supposed to help me learn the things I needed to, and then closed it again. "Yes, sir."

He paused, glancing up at me for the first time since I'd arrived. "Is that an affirmative answer of understanding to your superior officer, or are you simply stating what you think I want to hear?"

Oh, that was a loaded question if I'd ever heard one. If I said yes to the first, I would be lying. If I said yes to the second, I was admitting I was acting like a patronizing suckup. I licked my lips, stalling as long as I could before answering. I was burned if I answered, and I was burned if I didn't. Maybe honesty was the best policy then?

"Neither, sir," I replied at last.

I got raised eyebrows in response. "Explain."

"While I don't exactly understand how standing at attention for a prolonged period of time is the requested additional training, sir, I do understand that you are my superior officer. You do the things you do for a reason. And whether or not I understand that reason, it's my responsibility to obey."

The moment the words were out of my mouth, I winced. Great. Now that sounded like the best sucking up I could have come up with. I don't think I could have rehearsed a better kiss-ass speech than that if I tried. I dared to flick my eyes away from staring straight ahead at the wall behind his desk, darting a quick glance at his face. Ensign Colclazure's eyes were narrowed thoughtfully as he stared at me.

I swallowed hard. "Sir, allow me to try again," I stammered out quickly. "I didn't mean for that answer to sound so—"

"Did you mean the words, crewman?" he cut in. "A simple yes or no answer will suffice."

Inwardly I sighed, feeling my shoulders drooping slightly. Idly I wondered how many bruises I'd receive this time, and if they would be the physical type or the crueler ones directed at my ego. "Yes, sir."

"Did I, at any point since you arrived in my office, give you permission to stand at your ease?"

My shoulders reversed their slump with the beginnings of a painful ache, and I renewed my determination to stand at full attention until I bloody well died of it. "No, sir."

Ensign Colclazure leaned back slightly in his chair, arms folded across his chest as he regarded me. "You're standing at attention like this, Crewman Idelas, because you lack discipline. I received a notice this evening that during a portion of your shift, you deviated from your standard orders and decided you had time for some leisurely reading."

Leisurely reading? What in the stars was he talking about... and then it clicked. He was referring to my time reviewing the training protocols while on the bridge. For the third time in a twenty-four hour period, I felt my face go pale.

"I have no excuse, sir," I replied.

"I'm not looking for an excuse, crewman. I'm looking for an explanation."

I swallowed again. "I wasn't reading for pleasure, sir. I was trying to figure out my mistake from before that required you to…"

"That required me to grab your arm like I did." He finished for me. It definitely wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact.

"Yes, sir."

"And you felt this was an excellent use of your time, even after I agreed to additional training to correct your lack of understanding?"

Well, that _did_ sound horrible when he put it that way, I realized with a sinking feeling. It sounded like I was questioning his ability to teach me, and in essence questioning his leadership. At the very least, it looked like I was blatantly disregarding his orders, both for my daily duties and then the extra lessons which he could have simply denied me, but had agreed to give.

I felt my face grow hot, the shame in me almost causing my knees to go weak. This was yet another of my screw ups in a long day full of screw ups.

"Good," he said, nodding once. "You see your mistakes. You've got potential Crewman Idelas. I've noticed it, and so have others. It's why I agreed to these additional lessons. But your career will go nowhere until you learn discipline. And, so help me, I'll make absolutely _certain_ that you gain that discipline."

I felt my eyes pop open wide. Potential? Others had noticed? Career? Conscripts could have military careers? "Potential, sir?" I asked before I could stop myself.

His eyes took on that flat, displeased look that I was coming to know so well. "Talking out of turn, Crewman, isn't tolerated." He said coolly, rising to his feet and walking around the desk towards me. "This is not a conversation. This is a lesson."

I fought the impulse to step back as he drew near, never really noticing just how tall he was until he was looming over me. It was different when he loomed over me at the crewer console. Face to face, he a lot taller than I, and had already mastered that intimidating Imperial stare that made grown men cower and probably made small animals wet themselves.

"I tell you these things because they are true. You wouldn't be here, on board a ship such as the Chimaera, if you lacked that potential. You scored high marks in your training and displayed an ability to adapt and perform under a variety of stressful situations. So your skills and potential have never been in doubt by the command staff. However, your inability to divorce yourself of your previous life is the one thing holding you down."

He stepped to the side, and I knew he was eying my hair – or lack thereof. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him blink in surprise. It was only for a moment, and the hard gaze settled on my face. I flushed again and tried to keep my breathing even. He'd known about my deal with the commissary, obviously. Never had I been more grateful for my decision to fall into imperial standards than now. What would he have done if he'd seen my longer-than-standard hair? What fresh hell would I have caught then?

"So I see your little recreational reading stint provided some good after all," he said quietly, coming to stand in front of me again. "I trust you will never try to defy uniform standards again?"

"N-no, sir."

"Good," he said again, spinning away from me in that enviable military style. "I also trust you will not take your attention away from your duties on the morrow, either."

"No, sir."

He nodded, taking his seat again. "Very well. I have reports to finish. You, however, will continue to stand at full attention while I finish them. If I note even one ounce of your attention straying from that simple task, we'll repeat it again tomorrow evening. And again after that, and so forth until you get it through your head. Whatever you were before your conscription is gone now. You are a member of the Imperial Fleet. You will recognize this and understand it. Once you master that task, we'll move on to other forms of discipline. Consider this your first session of additional lessons. Am I clear?"

I squared my already aching shoulders all the more. "Yes, sir."

*BRK* *BRK* *BRK* *BRK* *BRK* *BRK* *BRK* *BRK* *BRK* *BRK* *BRK* *BRK* *BRK* *BRK*

I could barely walk as I made my shaky way down the corridor to the bridge crew dormitories. My legs ached, my shoulders and upper back throbbed. And I was willing to bet I had bruises on my wrists to match the one on my arm. Though these bruises were from my own fingers this time. From grasping my wrists until my fingers shook, trying to maintain that perfect military attention for three hours straight.

I was willing to bet hard currency that the only reason Ensign Colclazure released me was due to the fact that I needed a solid eight hours of rest before my shift began. But, oh, sleep was going to be hard to come by once again. My body felt like it had been beaten with shock sticks. And my mind? It was a whirlwind of questions. Who in the command staff had noticed me already? And how by the Force was a conscript supposed to have any sort of proud military career?

Not that I agreed with Pieterson's assessment that we were throw-away toys in any way. But we_ were_ forced labor. And Pieterson couldn't be the first conscript in Imperial history that felt the way he did. How could an officer trust a person that a) didn't want to be there, and b) didn't want to perform the work assigned anyway?

But most startling of all was the fact that I was thinking hard on those specific questions. Not twenty-four hours ago the only question on my mind was how to screw the Imperial system just enough to show that they couldn't 'tame' me and yet not enough to end up executed. Now I was thinking about a career here? Now I was feeling an odd mixture of dread and pride that the command staff thought I had potential?

I rubbed my hands over my face as I strode into the bridge crew barracks, weaving my way towards the 'fresher. I was too tired to react to the fact that anyone still awake avoided making eye contact with me. It figured that on a ship this size, rumor spread like wildfire. Probably everyone in my unit knew I was summoned before my officer just after dinner. And the way I looked like I had been put through the wringer would send tongues waggling for days. I was damaged goods, apparently. And like Tam not wanting to fall to Pieterson's dangerous antics and opinions, likewise no one else wanted to associate with the out-of-favor member of their unit.

I did my obligatory cleansings and crawled into my bunk. But before sleep claimed me, I locked eyes with Pieterson. His were full of sullen anger, and most likely indignant rage on my behalf. "Cut it out, Pieterson," I muttered, rolling over onto my other side so I didn't have to meet that stare. "I screwed up. I've been corrected. It's over. Let it go."

"Never," he whispered hotly. "They can't keep doing this to us."

"Whatever," I yawned, too tired to deal with his sulking at the moment. "It's your funeral."

And with that, I slipped off to unpleasant dreams of Pieterson's head on a pike in Ensign Colclazure's office. I was forced to meet those dead eyes as I stood at rigid attention, receiving yet another lesson in discipline.


	4. Chapter 4 - Arguments

A/N: Thanks again for all the reviews and messages. I answer each and every one that I can. I know I promised the Thrawn fans that this would be a story heavily concerning our favorite Grand Admiral. I promise this is coming. Just a bit longer of laying the ground work. :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun. :)

* * *

"I'm telling you," Tam said, drawing deep breaths and swiping a hand through his reddish brown hair. "He's a Jedi Master. Somehow Admiral Thrawn found a living Jedi Master on that backwater planet we're orbiting and brought him here."

"Are you serious?" I asked, blinking hard as we ran. "A real Jedi Master? On Wayland of all planets?"

"Apparently."

I tossed a glance at him as we rounded the curve on the track, taking a moment to wipe the sweat from my face. My legs were screaming agony at me from last evening's lessons in proper military marching and turning, but I did my best to keep pace with both Tam and Pieterson during our workout. For the first time since meeting Tam about four days ago, we all had managed to have a full twenty-four hours off shift together. During that time off, we tried to spend as much of it together as possible. It beat spending that time alone.

To be completely honest, it was Pieterson and Tam spending the majority of the time together. Most of my so-called "free" time had been spent in Ensign Colclazure's office either reading aloud data for him to input into his seemingly endless streams of reports, or sitting quietly in the corner – back straight and stiff enough to feel like he had inserted steel into my spine - reading whatever piece of Imperial history he felt I needed to know.

The history thing had caught me off guard. But it appeared that any good officer had an excellent education in military history. Most specifically the battles that were won and lost, and the key elements that decided those outcomes. So I sat and read, preparing myself for the inevitable barrage of questions that Ensign Colclazure would soon fire in my direction. If I so much as missed one, I would find myself in the exercise area performing military turns and proper marching until my legs gave out.

Then he would give me one more chance to answer the question to his satisfaction. So far I'd managed to do that. Otherwise, he promised me that the next evening's lessons would be far worse. And I knew he would keep that promise.

Last night had been no exception to that promise. I'd failed to grasp the reasoning behind why a properly executed Marg Sabl maneuver would have prevented the loss of three TIE-fighter squadrons during the battle of Endor. There had been blood in my boots when I'd taken them off finally, the blisters on my feet from the day before that having popped open during that last round of marching. Tam had been kind enough to pull in some favors in the infirmary and slip a small amount of bacta salve to me so that I was at least marginally functional today.

Which was how he had learned of this supposed Jedi Master we were discussing.

"That's bantha poodoo," Pieterson puffed out on my other side, not even bothering to glance over at Tam. "The Jedi are all dead. Vader and Palpatine killed them."

Tam and I hissed together in unison, both throwing glares at our opinionated friend. Though, in Tam's eyes, the term "friend" was very, very loosely applied to Pieterson. I was beginning to think that he tolerated Pieterson's presence simply because I did. And both of us were rather short of friends and allies on this ship. Almost anything or anyone was better than no one at this point.

"Watch it," Tam muttered, tossing a furtive glance around the workout area. So far no one seemed to have noticed Pieterson's words. "He's the Emperor, and the other is still _Lord_ Vader in most of the crew's eyes. Calling them anything else is just asking for someone to execute you."

"Whatever," Pieterson replied, keeping his eyes focused straight ahead. "Regardless of whatever you call them, they wiped out the Jedi Order. There are no more Jedi in the galaxy. You must be mistaken."

"No," Tam replied sharply. "I know what I saw and I know what I heard. I was in the hall when Captain Pellaeon escorted this 'Master C'Baoth' person around the ship. There was no way to mistake those robes or that medallion he wore around his neck. Classic Jedi attire. He _is_ a dark Jedi and he's working for Admiral Thrawn. Though to hear Master C'Baoth speak, you'd think it was the other way around."

I snorted out a bit of a laugh at that. Tam joined me. The thought of anyone commanding Grand Admiral Thrawn was as ludicrous as believing the New Republic would swoop in right that instant and liberate all the conscripts. Just impossible.

We rounded the second turn on the mile long track that ran the perimeter of the _Chimaera's_ workout facility, doing our best to stay out of the way of the stormtroopers and navy troopers that used the heavy lifting and anti-gravity equipment in the center of the room. So far the room was busy this time of the day, and the buzz of equipment mingled with the grunts of weight lifting and side conversations masked our little talk just fine. Still, it was best to keep our voices down and I tossed a cautionary glance at Tam. Tam ducked his head apologetically and lowered his voice.

"If it has to do with Captain Pellaeon or Admiral Thrawn, I'd just as soon stay out of it," I put in quietly. "The plan is to survive, remember? Just like we discussed. Keep our heads down and do our duties. And nowhere in that job description is it written that we should stick our noses into politics way above our pay grade—"

"A dark Jedi isn't a Jedi Master," Pieterson retorted, cutting me off. "He's a dark Jedi. And I don't even think that counts as being a Jedi. More like a dark force user."

Tam rolled his eyes. "I don't care what the title is, Pieterson. He could call himself the King of the Galaxy for all I care. I just know that I've got a bad feeling about it. Did you notice the other strangeness about the ship lately? Ever since we visited that planet called Mykyr, all those strange frameworks have been installed all over the command section of the bridge. They've got some kind of furry snake-like creature that clinging to them, and Admiral Thrawn is never far away from one of those frames these days."

"You should care about the title," Pieterson growled. Like always, he refused to let go of a conversation until he'd had the final word. "After all, you're the one that corrected me about the _Emperor_ and _Lord_ Vader. If you're going to give reverence to one, you should give reverence to all."

Tam came to a dead stop in the middle of the track—or would have if I hadn't wrapped one arm around his and all but drug him back into running at my side. The look on his face was that of pure incredulity, a feeling that I heartily shared with him. That Pieterson would be so blind with his own anger and resentment at being a conscript to not see (or care about) what was right in front of his face… Like, say the appearance of a freaking DARK JEDI or the fact that said Dark Jedi was now working for our Admiral. Tam right right. This was a bad, bad thing. And all Pieterson could see was his own blind suffering. It was baffling!

"Your _reverence_ for things dead and gone are going to get you killed," Tam remarked darkly, hurrying to keep pace with us once again. "You're an Imperial crewman now, Pieterson. I'm sorry, truly sorry, that your homeworld was conquered by the Empire just like ours was. But rebelling against your current circumstances isn't going to help you or your world. Dying because you refuse to fit into your assigned place in the Fleet isn't going to help anyone, either. You must see that."

Pieterson had come to a halt on the track this time, and inwardly I groaned. They were going to have yet another fight. Unlike the last one, this one was going to happen in front of a lot of witnesses, rather than in the semi-privacy of the dormitories.

"All I see is someone who has given up on his homeworld and himself," Pieterson remarked cruelly.

Oh. Bloody. Hell.

"Tam—" I tried quickly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"No, Idelas," He shook off my hand on his arm, staring hard at Pieterson. For a wonder that look wasn't rage or indignation. It was sorrow. Sorrow for Pieterson, and perhaps a smidge of anger. "No, I think I'm done working out for now. The track is too crowded for my taste. I'll see you later at the noon meal."

He turned on his heel and strode away, the emotion in his tall rangy form speaking louder than words as to his current feelings. I sighed heavily, brushing sweat from my face with the back of my hand. "Did you really have to provoke him today?"

Pieterson may have been a bitter man obsessed with his own suffering, but he knew an insult when he heard one. Especially given that the only people on the track at the moment were the two of us. "Yeah, I did," he muttered grimly. "Someone has to be the voice of reason around here. Someone has to remind us that we're people, not toys to satisfy some power-obsessed Admiral. And if that person has to be me, then so be it."

That was it. That was the proverbial last straw. Tam had done his best to reach out to Pieterson, to help him see what he was doing to himself and those around him. To have that throw that back in his face… Without thinking, I shoved Pieterson—hard. I wasn't strong enough to make him stumble, but it was definitely enough to get his attention.

"Hey!" I whispered fiercely. "You think I don't know what I gave up when they took me? You think that Tam doesn't know that? You think you're the only one that left behind family and friends and a bloody career? I was an artist for crying out loud. You think I don't miss the paints and the clay and the feel of good canvas beneath my fingers? The only thing that gets me through this nightmare of a life is the hope that one day I'll get to see those people again and feel those materials in my hands. I can't do that if I'm dead—and neither can you or Tam for that matter. So get _over_ yourself and your need to remind _everyone_ of how much _you_ are suffering. The rest of us are suffering, too. We just choose to be decent people and keep it to ourselves."

I spun on my heel at that, part of my mind realizing I had just executed a half-way decent military turn, and threw myself headlong into my run. I didn't care if others heard our little argument. Hell, if the troopers in the center heard even half of it, they would probably just laugh it off as two 'helpless little fleet wannabe's' having a temper tantrum. Let them watch, I seethed. I was beyond caring.


	5. Chapter 5 - The Stormtrooper

A/N: Thanks again to all who have read, reviewed and sent messages. The encouragement is awesome. Thank you for liking this story. In this chapter we meet our fourth crewman. And thusly end the build up. Next chapter should contain more of the Thrawn elements that have been requested. Thanks for sticking with me!

Disclaimer: I own nothing save for my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

I hadn't even finished a half mile on the track by myself when I heard the sound of boots running behind me.

Inwardly, I groaned. If that was Pieterson coming to try and convince me how passive resistance was the key to undermining the Empire, I was seriously going to slug him this time. Brig time for fighting with another officer would be a welcomed punishment if it meant I could get away from his wild theories for even a moment. But there was something off in the rhythm of that run that made me pause. Pieterson's run was like mine used to be before Ensign Colclazure started drilling me on marching—all loose steps and the like. This was structured, controlled.

It wasn't Pieterson behind me. It wasn't Tam, either. Great.

I slowed down, moving to the far edge of the track to let whomever it was pass me by. It had to be a trooper of some kind. Tam, Pieterson, and I were the only fleet personnel in the workout area. The runner behind me slowed to match my pace. I sped up again… and so did he. Swallowing hard, I pushed my pace up and tried not to think about why I was being followed. Did one of the troopers overhear my argument with Pieterson, or, stars forbid, watch me shove him? Or was this some sort of crazy prank being played by a bored trooper?

I suddenly regretted having lost my temper on Pieterson and running off alone. This was a prime example as to why Tam and I tolerated his presence. Even the most annoying comrade in the galaxy was still a comrade, and one more person at your side meant you didn't have to fight someone alone.

Finishing my circuit quickly, I jumped off the track near to where my water bottle and towel lay. To my dismay, the runner left the track with me. I grabbed my towel and bottle and turned—and slammed headlong into six and a half feet of pure muscle. I literally bounced off of him hard enough to see stars. His hand reached out and caught my waist, keeping me from landing ungracefully on my ass.

"You okay?" the muscular wall asked.

I stared up at the man in front of me, one hand going to the arm wrapped around my waist, the other clutching my bottle and towel to my chest. Blond hair close cropped to his skull framed a face that was all planes and angles, looking as if it had been chiseled from stone. And speaking of stone, his eyes were flinty grey color in color, and contained about as much warmth as the granite they emulated. He was definitely a stormtrooper. And I was definitely in trouble. Why, you ask?

Because I suddenly remembered where I had seen him before. He and about four other stormtroopers had been in the workout area last night when Ensign Colclazure had put me through the marching drills. I'd wanted to die with shame as they watched from the corner of their eyes, occasionally snickering out a derisive laugh when I fell on my face or earned a berating from my commanding officer. The man before me had been no exception.

"Yeah. Fine," I bit out, glaring up at him. Just wonderful. Not only were my only two friends at odds with each other (and nowhere near to help me), I was now face to face with one of my tormentors. I tried to step backwards out of his arm. He didn't so much as budge an inch. It was like being hugged by a plasteel girder. "You mind?"

A lopsided grin toyed with one edge of his mouth. "Not at all."

"Oh, well, I do. Let go," I growled, again trying to take that step away and again getting nowhere. "What is it that you want?"

"Just another minute of your time," he replied, glancing over his shoulder at something I could not see. "And the proper address would be 'What do you want, sir.' I am Lieutenant Jadrek Reese," He said by means of introduction, finally looking back down at me. "And I'm making sure that you are okay."

Maybe I'd be okay if he'd let go of me so that my heart would stop bouncing off the roof of my mouth and settle into my chest where it belonged. For the third time I tried to step out of the circle of his arm, and for the third time found that option less than useless.

"I said that I'm fine… sir," I added after the fact. "Let me go. Please."

Those unreadable eyes stared down into mine from that tanned face. "Be careful of that one," he said, finally acquiescing to my request and taking a step back. "He's trouble."

He? Trouble? It took me a moment to figure out what he was talking about. Apparently someone _had_ noticed my little argument with Pieterson. And that someone had been Lieutenant Reese. I sighed aloud this time. If Reese decided to tell Colclazure that I'd shoved a fellow crewman, marching until my feet bled would be the least of my punishments.

"Pieterson? No, he's fine," I said quickly, trying a little smile that I knew fell short of the mark. "We were… playing around. It's… it's fine."

Reese let a small smile of his own touch his lips, one that never reached his eyes. "I'm not going to go running to your superior officer, Crewman Idelas, if that's what you're worried about. It's not my place to interfere with the squabbling of little fleet children. But I am going to warn you that your friend Pieterson is on a downward spiral. I've seen raw recruits display attitudes like his before, and it never ends well. You'd do yourself a favor if you followed your other little friend and stayed far away from him."

I felt my chin lifting a bit in wounded pride. The fact that Reese had referred to Tam as a 'little friend' had stung. Implying that if one wasn't a six foot tall of walking muscle, one wasn't a man. Besides, you didn't survive long on a Star Destroyer without learning that there was a bit of a rivalry between the officers of the Imperial Navy and the officers of the Imperial Army. The Army considered the Navy to be pampered little snots sipping tea all day while the Army took care of business face to face with the enemy. The Navy, for the most part, considered the Army as stuck up, entitled prats that lounged around the ship all day until they were called on to do a day's worth of work once a month. If that.

Reese's smile grew at my look of defiance, thawing some of the ice from his eyes. "Loyal, aren't you?"

"Aren't you?" I shot back rather unkindly. "To your unit and your friends, _sir_?

He laughed at that, a full throated laugh that surprised me. "And fiery, too. I see why your officer spends so much time grooming you for command." When I lifted my eyebrows at that, he laughed all the more. "It's clear to anyone that wants to see it, little one. Your officer is going to make you his attaché soon. Mark me on it. I've seen it before."

"Thank you for the career advice," I said acidly, turning away in an attempt at those damned military turns. Little one? Did he really think I'd take that as a compliment? "I'll take your words under advisement. Now if you'll excuse me, sir."

I started away… and then ground my teeth in frustration as I heard him following me. His hand landed on my shoulder with surprising gentleness, slowing me enough for him to step in front of me. "Then allow me to give you two more pieces of advice, _crewman_. The first is to stay away from that Pieterson fellow. You can't save him, not when they are as far gone in their own anger as that one. He will get himself killed and he will take you down with him if you let him. The second is this, let your head lead you."

I blinked at that last part. "Excuse me?"

"When you perform the military turns," he explained, as if we hadn't just been discussing my friend's deteriorating mental state. "The body will follow the direction of the head. Stop forcing the turn before you turn your head and you'll have those down perfect."

I stared at him a long moment. Apparently he wasn't going to leave me alone until I listened to at least one piece of his advice. But on the other hand, I _did_ need help with those turns. Desperately at that, I might add. Was it really betraying my friend if I ignored Reese's first bit of advice but heeded the second?

"If I do that, I'll fall on my face," I said. "How do you spot the turn if you let your head make it first?"

"Like so," he said, demonstrating it for me. First at a normal speed and then again at a slower speed, allowing me to view each motion of the thrice-damned turn.

And I got it. Just like that, it clicked into place. "Thank you," I said, meaning the words this time. "Thank you very much, sir."

"You can call me Reese, little one," he said, stepping out of my way. "Now make my day and heed my warning about Pieterson."

I turned back to him, eyebrows drawn down in puzzlement. "Why are you so certain that Pieterson is trouble? You don't know him at all."

Those grey-blue eyes flicked towards the exit. "I saw the look on his face when you shoved him. And I saw the look in his eyes as he started to follow you around the track. As I've said, I've seen men in that condition before. I believe he meant you harm in those moments."

"And that's why you followed me?"

"I stayed at your side until he exited the room, yes."

I crossed my arms over my chest, pursing my lips. "I thought it wasn't your place to interfere with the squabbling of little Fleet children?"

His smile lit up his face, softening those hard angles and making him seem human for a change. It made him likable, made him seem like the type of person to share a good ale with back home and swap stories. For a moment I found it very hard to imagine that this man with the laughing eyes was a stone cold stormtrooper.

"It isn't," he replied when he recovered. "Call me old-fashioned, but I've always had a soft spot for the damsel in distress. Or little crewman with aspirations of being an officer one day."

My eyes tried to open wide with shocked indignation, but the smile on his face and the way his eyes danced with amusement had a way of diffusing my rising upset. He was mocking me, clearly. But he'd also come to my aid, if I was to believe his story about Pieterson. So I gave him the only response I thought appropriate: I threw my water bottle at his head.

He caught the bloody thing as if I had casually tossed it in his direction, tore off the foil seal, and drank deeply all in one smooth motion. "Thank you, little one," he said with that same laughing tone. "I was very thirsty. We'll consider the water payment for my advice."

Rolling my eyes, I turned to leave… and paused. Something was still nagging at the corner of my mind. Something that Tam had said. "Lieutenant Reese?"

He was still staring at me, my now empty water bottle in his large hand. "Yes, Crewman Idelas?"

I took a deep breath, realizing I was now going to do the thing I warned Tam not to do. "Were you down on the planet below us today?"

Those eyes went from laughing to guarded in a split second. "No. The Admiral or the Captain would not take an escort down with them today. Why do you ask?"

I fought not to show my astonishment. The Admiral and the Captain had gone down to the planet alone? It was unheard of. "I… heard a rumor that they found somebody down there. A… a Jedi Master," I finished in a hushed whisper.

Reese stepped over to me and before I knew it his arm was around my waist again. Once more, I found myself pressed against the steel wall he called a chest. Alarmed, I glanced up into his eyes, expecting to see anything but what I saw. There was wariness there, and maybe a touch of fear. He tucked my empty bottle into one of my hands, leaning in so close that only a millimeter of breath separated his lips from mine.

"Stay out of this, little one. The Admiral found many things on Wayland, and like the Admiral, himself, all those things are deadly dangerous. Avoid the Jedi Master. Go back to your Ensign and your safe little world of military turns. There are far more dangerous things in the Empire than Pieterson, and your curiosity may lead you into one of those things."

He released me then, turning his back and walking away. I saw some of his buddies smirking first at him and then at me, and I realized what he'd done. He'd told me something that I wasn't supposed to know. A lot of _somethings_. He'd covered it with a fake attempt at seducing the little helpless female crewman. I couldn't bring myself to hate him for it, though, not with his warning still fresh in my ears. All I could do was gather what dignity and strength I had left and get the hell out of that room.

I had to find Tam and tell him what I'd learned. Maybe he'd be able to make sense out of it. And hopefully that sense would be what we needed to stay the hell out of the way of whatever was coming.


	6. Chapter 6 - Dangerous Realizations

A/N: Thank you again for all the reviews and private messages. I answer each one that I can. :) I know I promised Thrawn elements in this next chapter. Before I am mobbed, please understand that the chapter became too large. I had to break it into two different chapters so it wasn't so unwieldy to read. I have finished the second part and will post it soon. Thrawn becomes key in the story at that point, so please continue to bear with me.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please don't sue. This is purely for fun. Extra special love for Timothy Zahn for writing Heir to the Empire in the first place!

* * *

"Stop pacing, already," Pieterson said moodily from where he reclined on his bunk. "You're going to wear a rut in the deck plating."

I ignored him, completing my walk past two more of the double-decked crewman bunks before spinning on my heel and heading back. For a second, I took pride in the fact that I had just completed a perfectly executed military turn. One day I was going to have to find Lieutenant Reese and thank him for his instruction. Ever since he'd shown me how to let my 'head lead my body,' I was completing my marching and military turns to perfection. So much so that Ensign Colclazure had been forced to come up with other punishments for me when I failed to perform a task to his satisfaction.

That taste of pride was fleeting. Almost as soon as I felt it, it was washed away in a deluge of fear and nervousness that threatened to claim what was left of my sanity. If I wouldn't have earned a severe reprimand for it, I would have chewed my fingernails to stubs.

We were going into battle today. The _Chimaera_ was heading to the Bpfassh system as part of a three-pronged hit-and-fade tactic orchestrated by none other than Grand Admiral Thrawn. That in and of itself wasn't out of the ordinary for the ship. But it was _my_ first battle since my conscription. It was also the first battle in which Jedi Master Jorus C'Baoth would be assisting the fleet. And that changed everything.

"I still have no idea what he meant by 'assisting,'" I grumbled, reaching the other end of my self-designated pacing zone and turning around again.

"I don't think our officers really know what that means, either," Tam put in from where he stood, leaning against my storage locker.

"Colclazure certainly doesn't," Pieterson added, frowning up at the bunk above him. "That whole speech he gave us sounded rehearsed. Sounded more than rehearsed, actually. It sounded like he was reading from his orders."

I rolled my eyes at that comment. Lately Pieterson had taken to expanding his disdain for his situation to a whole new level. It was now the personal fault of everyone in a position above him that he was a conscript and therefore to blame for everything. So much so that he'd taken to into insulting our officer behind his back. Tam, for his part, had long since given up on talking to Pieterson. He seemed content to ignore the other man. I don't think Pieterson registered the fact that Tam ignored him most of the time, or if he did he didn't show it. The two of them had yet to make up after that last argument in the workout area. It hardly mattered, I forced myself to admit. Whether we agreed with him or not, Pieterson was part of our little group. Maybe one day we'd get through to him.

Maybe Reese was wrong about him. I had to keep believing that. It was one more straw of sanity that I grasped tightly with both hands.

"Did your officer say anything different?" I asked Tam, coming to a stop in front of him.

Tam shook his head. "No, he pretty much said the same thing. Then he dismissed our team like I assume your officer did to you. Told us to wait in reserve until we were called upon."

I compressed my lips in a thin line. "That's pretty much what Colclazure said."

"You think this might be nothing more than another training exercise?" Tam asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

Pieterson snorted. "No, it's the real deal," he said, matter-of-factly. "What you two don't realize is that the previous shift already has battle experience. They're going to set up all the systems and do all the preliminary work. Once everything's in place, your officer is going to call you up to the bridge to take their places. That way, if you do something stupid or wrong, they can just kill you and bring in the real guys. Who will have already set everything up, just so you know, so it'll be a smooth transition. Just brush your lifeless body aside and take over."

Tam rubbed his hands over his face. I couldn't see the look that he sent Pieterson through his fingers, but I was willing to bet my meager week's pay that it wasn't pleasant. "Burn me, Pieterson, you were making all sorts of sense until that last part. How many times do I have to tell you that I don't want to be here, either. But I was given a choice: serve or die. I'm rather fond of living."

"If you could call this living," Pieterson muttered by way of reply.

"Stop it, both of you," I sighed, clasping my hands behind my back so I didn't reach out and smack them both. "This isn't helping."

Pieterson shrugged. "It wasn't meant to."

This time I could see the look that Tam sent Pieterson. It was less than pleasant. "Tam," I said sharply, causing both men to jump a bit. "Seriously, just leave him alone. Look, we need to focus on something other than this or we're going to be less than useless when asked to join the battle."

Tam pushed away from the locker, joining me in my designated pacing area. There was a slight smirk on his lips. "I can tell your lessons are paying off. You almost sounded like my officer for a second when you snapped at me. And you're standing like he does, too."

I jerked a bit at that, realizing that I had come to stand at military ease, my hands clasped behind my back and my shoulders straight and tall. Immediately I relaxed, not bothering to fight the blush staining my face. "Sorry," I murmured, lowering my eyes to the deck and rubbing the back of my neck. "Ensign Colclazure demands almost all my time now and most of that is spent standing at full attention. Standing at ease has become my new relaxed."

"Don't apologize," Tam said gently. "Reflexes like that just might save your life. I might ask my officer for additional lessons myself. It seems to be working for you."

We both chose to ignore the rather unkind words that Pieterson muttered in our direction at that, especially the sounds that came close to words like "sellouts" or "cowards."

"You won't have time for anything else if your officer is anything like mine," I said over Pieterson's mutters. "Anyway, this isn't helping us. Have you figured out anything else about this Master C'Baoth person?"

"Yeah, and it's not good," Tam pulled out his datapad and slotted a card into it. "Check this out. Remember how I said that most people on the ship either didn't believe that C'Baoth was a Jedi Master? Or those that did figured he was going to be like Lord Vader and chose to stay the hell out of his way? Well, things are changing."

I moved over to where I could see, and then whistled low between my teeth. "I see what you mean. Are you certain about this?"

Tam nodded grimly. "I wish I wasn't, Idelas. But the facts are here. All the people on this list have had prolonged contact with C'Baoth. All of them were reported as having disliked the man, himself, or were against the idea of having a Jedi on board. All of them are now singing his praises, or they aren't around anymore to say anything. Remember Lieutenant Hollinger in Engineering?"

Oh that name made me wince. Being yelled at by him once was enough to give me nightmares for days. "Yes, that man's as mean as a rancor with a sore claw. Wasn't he the most vocal about his disbelief in Jedi Masters?"

"Not anymore," Tam frowned. "I found him in one of the storage closets of the hangar bay. He was curled up in the fetal position sobbing. Sobbing because 'the Master' had chosen not to fill his mind with sunlight. You get two guesses as to who this 'Master' might be, though I doubt you'll need them."

I felt the blood draining from my face. Jedi Master Jorus C'Baoth. Who else could it be? "What did you do?"

"What else could I do? I called for a medic immediately. Last thing I heard was that Hollinger was being transferred off ship to mental institution somewhere. They say he suffered a complete psychotic break and they aren't optimistic that he'll even partially recover—ever."

"Burn me," I breathed, staring at the list of names on that datapad. "And all these people are in that same condition?"

"No, not all," Tam admitted, scrolling through the names. "Hollinger was the worst case thus far. The rest of them are just acting… oddly. Not anything too out of the ordinary, and they certainly aren't shirking their duties. But it's just a feeling. It's like… like there's something dark inside their eyes now that wasn't there before."

"And all of them have had extensive contact with Master C'Baoth? You're certain about this?"

Again, Tam nodded. "Near as I can tell. What's also interesting is that these people work in sections of the ship that haven't been fitted with those odd frameworks containing those creatures from Myrkr."

"You think there's some correlation between the frameworks and C'Baoth?" Pieterson asked.

Tam and I both jumped, startled by the fact that Pieterson had a) said something useful, and b) said it in a tone that wasn't filled with angsty self-righteousness. That, and the fact that neither of us had heard him leave his bunk and walk over to join us.

Tam ran a hand over his chin in thought, angling the datapad so that Pieterson could read it. "I think there's an anti-correlation," he said slowly. "Almost as if these creatures somehow kept Master C'Baoth from influencing the people around him. Maybe that's why there are no bridge crew on this list. The bridge is practically ringed with these creatures on their framework."

"Which would in turn mean that our Captain and the Admiral aren't influenced by Master C'Baoth, then," I added, shoulders slumping in a touch of relief. A relief that Tam shared. At least the command structure was still sound.

Pieterson, on the other hand, shook his head slowly. "How do you know for certain? And what does it matter, really, if this C'Baoth does anything to us. Is that any worse than being an expendable plastic solider for the Empire?"

Tam rubbed the bridge of his nose, a groan escaping his compressed lips. I shot an annoyed yet resigned glance at Pieterson. "Stop," I said softly. "Just stop. Tam and I are trying to survive as best as we know how. I know you are doing the same. For us, it's fitting in here on the _Chimaera_ and doing our best. For you it's a passive aggressive attitude and resistance. So let's go back to agreeing to disagree on whose survival tactics are best and figure out how to alert the staff to what we know."

"You even sound like them now, Idelas," Pieterson said by way of a parting verbal shot. He slunk back to his bunk and threw himself into it with a labored sigh. "Talking about our lives like they were nothing more than a tactical exercise."

I ignored that, or at least tried to. It stung more than I would admit to myself that I was beginning to act and sound like a card-carrying-proud-to-serve Imperial officer. But Tam had already stated the alternative to that: death or service. At least in service there was the potential of earning leave time and visiting our homeworlds. There was no potential in death.

Lodging that thought permanently in the forefront of my mind, I tuned out Pieterson's continued grumblings and focused on Tam's list. "How do we tell anyone about our fears, and who do we tell in the first place?"

"That's just it," Tam said, glancing back at the datapad. "All we have is my gut feeling. Hollinger's breakdown has been attributed to a combination of genetics and stress. His case is closed to us as evidence now. Until we have some solid evidence that Master C'Baoth is using his powers to harm the crew, we can't tell anyone. Unless you want to be the first to accuse someone who's apparently in the Grand Admiral's inner circle of confidants of these crimes?"

"I don't even want to attempt to try that WITH a mountain of evidence," I retorted, biting my lower lip.

"My thoughts exactly."

"What do you think we should do then?"

Tam keyed off his datapad and handed me the datacard. "We stick to our original plan. We keep our heads down, blend in, and survive. Don't cause any ripples in the status quo that will get you noticed, especially now by Master C'Baoth. But keep our eyes open for anything suspicious. Oh, and let's try to map out all the areas we can that have those frameworks and creatures in them. We'll make those our new routes to get around the ship as much as possible."

I nodded. "That sounds good for now. Pieterson, do you copy?"

His response was a casual wave of his hand, as if nothing mattered in the slightest to him anymore.

"Keep the datacard on your person at all times," Tam said, programming his datapad to wipe the memory clean. "We'll rotate who has it. I don't want this to fall into the wrong hands before we are ready to present our evidence to a superior."

I paled again at that, slipping the card into a pocket of my uniform jumpsuit. If our research fell into the hands of an officer before we were ready… well, let's just say that Pieterson's prophecy of executions for all would truly come to pass.

Tam opened his mouth to say something more when both our comlinks buzzed in unison. I stared at him a long moment. He stared at me. With shaking hands we both answered our coms, and in unison ran for the turbolift. The battle of Bpfassh was about to begin, and as Pieterson had predicted, we'd been called to replace our counterparts early. It was time for us to earn our battle experience.


	7. Chapter 7 Battles

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews! I try to answer each one. :) As promised, this one brings Thrawn into the mix hard-core and is a much longer chapter than I'm used to writing. This is also my first time writing for the Admiral, so I hope I did him justice.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please don't sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

"All units signal ready, Admiral," the tactical officer on duty said.

"Excellent," I heard Grand Admiral Thrawn reply somewhere to my left as Tam and I exited the turbolift, his voice glacially calm. "Prepare for lightspeed."

We hit the central command walkway at the same time, Tam peeling off to the port side crew pit and I to the starboard side. I was a little proud of the way that neither of us showed our nervousness. There wasn't even a parting glance between us to say 'good luck' or even relay a prayer for each other. We were all calm business on the outside, regardless of how my insides were doing their best imitation of an aggressive asteroid field.

I came to a halt before Ensign Colclazure and my station, bringing my heels smartly together. "Sir," I said by means of presenting myself.

A tight smile appeared on Colclazure's lips, his eyes glittering with something other than annoyance at my presence for once. "Crewman," he acknowledged. "Take your station."

"Yes, sir."

Crewman Forde slid out of the chair and I slid in, my fingers already working on my login code before my body so much as touched the seat. It was all so routine now, as opposed to the nervous ball of hell that I had been on my first day. Then I had been lucky to remember half my recognition code. Now? Now the only thing I worried about was performing my duties to the best of my ability… and of course surviving this battle. I could be the best tractor beam operator in the galaxy and that wouldn't save me if the ship was blown out from under me. Hence, the nerves.

Brushing that aside as best I could, I keyed for the updates per normal procedure and found that Pieterson had again been right. The station was primed and ready to go. Orders scrolled across my screen with crisp detail and I began to follow them without question, trying to keep my fingers from shaking.

"Take a deep breath, crewman," Ensign Colclazure murmured from above me. "Just remember to breathe. I have faith in you and your skills. Now prove me right."

"Yes, sir," I murmured back, feeling a touch of the tension fading from my shoulders at his words. No matter what happened, I wasn't alone. I had an officer to direct me and training to fall back on. At least that was the point I hoped he was trying to make. "Thank you."

And with that, I felt the _Chimaera_ jump into hyperspace.

A hush filled the bridge, a silence unlike anything I had heard before. Around us the lighting shifted as outside the viewport the stars flared into lines and then merged into that marbled tunnel of white vastness that was light speed. For a moment, Colclazure's warning vanished from my thoughts and I forgot to breathe. This was happening. I was going into a real battle. My hands trembled anew as I reached for the timer switch, linking my station to the counter on the Captain's control board. Seconds ticked by, precious seconds of silence as everyone on the bridge seemed to hold their collective breath. There was nothing to do now but wait.

Forty seconds…

Fifty seconds…

Sixty seconds…

And that's when I first felt it. It started as a tickle in the back of my mind, the feeling of an insect crawling across my skin. Except this particular insect was on the inside of my skull! I gasped, fought against all that discipline that Ensign Colclazure had all but beaten into me to not take my hands from my station, to not try and scratch away that feeling. It became a buzz in the next heartbeat, filling my ears with a sound that wasn't a sound, slowing overtaking my thoughts.

I dared a glance to my left and right. The crewmen seated at their stations had their eyes forward on the task at hand, nothing in their faces betraying the same feeling of unrest that I felt.

The timer on my board flashed.

Sixty five seconds…

Seventy seconds…

The buzzing was slowly driving away my thoughts, my eyes losing their focus. _Be at ease_, a voice emerged from all that buzzing, a soothing counterpoint that nearly drove me into slumber. _Be at ease. I have you. You belong to me. Your thoughts and your feelings are mine. Your will is now my will. Let yourself fall. I have you. Be at ease…_

It was hard to think, to feel anything past that dreamy voice. Somewhere in that buzzing I knew I was still frightened, still terrified of my first battle. But the voice promised me that I would make it through. I would survive the fight because he had me. I didn't need to worry. I just needed to relax and let him guide me. Yes, it was what I needed to do. I should surrender to it. I should—

I blinked hard, gasping. And I realized that my fingers were fast at work on my board, my back rigidly straight, my posture mirrored by every single person in my crew pit. Even Ensign Colclazure was focusing on our work with an intensity that was beyond the usual, giving casual corrections or words of encouragement here and there where needed. The buzzing returned with a vengeance, like a thousand tiny flies were loose in my head, obstructing all thoughts but the need to sink back into that comforting voice.

The timer on my board flashed again.

Seventy-three seconds.

I panicked.

I reached for the only thought that seemed to float above the surface of all that buzzing, insect-like horror, the thought I had determined to keep in the forefront of my mind after that last conversation with Pieterson. I thought of home, of the possibility that I could earn leave time and visit my world again. I thought of my family and my friends, and of the feel of good canvas in my studio. I remembered the warmth of sunlight as I stretched that hand-made canvas across the frame my father had just made for me. I could smell the different ores and plant materials that I used to make my own paints. And I could feel the brush in my hands as I made that first stroke across the canvas.

In my mind I painted away the fear. I used colors to define a perimeter in my thoughts where the buzzing couldn't reach me. Inside that box were only myself and my deepest thoughts, and those I clothed with the cerulean blue of the ocean near my family's home. I created a shelter the color of good, deep green grass from the spring. A sky of the lightest white-blue capped that shelter, hints of summery buttery yellow and iridescent pink kissing the clouds as dawn faded into true morning. That had been my favorite time of the day, the time when I was at my most creative.

The time when the sun glinted off the ocean, turning the waves into clusters of tiny diamonds that crashed upon white-sugar sand dunes.

I felt my body falling back into line with the rest of the crew, but I was no longer afraid of it. My form answered that strange soothing voice. My mind and thoughts were safe, though, walled away in the place where only my artistic creations were born. It didn't matter how many of those imaginary insects slammed angrily against the boundaries of my mental painting. My foundation was sound, the good canvas and wood stronger than any steel. My walls of color were unshakable, the roof of memories impenetrable. The buzzing could not touch me, the voice nothing more than a whisper fading on the morning breeze.

The timer on my board gave one final flash.

Seventy-six seconds.

And with a sudden flicker, hyperspace became star lines that became solid points of light once more. The _Chimaera_ had arrived. The battle had begun.

* * *

I eased back in my seat with something of a relieved sigh as the _Chimaera_ once again jumped into hyperspace.

The battle hadn't lasted more than thirty minutes, yet I still felt as if it had taken forever. I could only imagine what the other crewers were thinking. My part in the battle had been tiny, relatively speaking. It had been my task to keep debris from shattered ships clear of the TIE fighter's flight paths, using the tractor beams to push away the detritus rather than pull it close. I'd even gone out on the proverbial limb a few times, using the beams to throw debris into the path of enemy fighters, slowing them enough for the TIE's to catch them.

It had impressed Colclazure. So much so that he'd allowed me to listen in on the TIE channels with him, to better coordinate the timing of their attacks with my own.

"Very good, Crewman Idelas," Ensign Colclazure said from above me. "I see my time training you hasn't been wasted. Strong creative minds, adaptable minds like yours, are prized in Imperial Service. "

I straightened a bit in my seat, turning to stare at him over my shoulder. My hands, however, stayed on my console. "Thank you, sir. I'm honored that you took the time to work with me."

"I'll make an officer of you yet. Do not let the praise go to your head, however. You still have a long way to go," That tight smile was back on his lips, that glimmer of… something… that I had seen on my first day of service back in those jade green eyes. "In fact, I know now what your next lesson will involve."

I pushed the smile off my lips that I hadn't really realized was there. Was that pride I was feeling in my chest? Could that little bit of praise from my officer really mean that much to me, or was that a sign that Pieterson was right? Was I falling for my own game, conforming to Imperial standards down to my soul? I was afraid to answer that. I was afraid that Ensign Colclazure was indeed molding me into the perfect Imperial officer regardless of my will. But how long until it _was_ my will to be as he wanted me to be?

I never got to answer that question.

A shadow passed over us, and both Ensign Colclazure and I watched in a sort of muted horror as Master Joruus C'Baoth strode down the stairway into the starboard crewpit. He came to a halt right in front of us, the anger in his dark eyes enough to make me press as far as I could into my seat. Discipline be damned. In that moment, Ensign Colclazure stepped up to intercede, placing himself between me and the third scariest person on this ship. The look on my officer's face was hard and fierce, and even that paled in comparison to the thunder that was C'Baoth.

"This is the one," this wild man with the frayed brown Jedi robe, long white hair and equally long white beard pronounced in a booming voice, as if calling damnation down onto my head. "This is the one that resisted me."

The bridge did one of those go-all-silent things that never meant anything good. While I couldn't say for certain, as the crew pits were built in such a way that the crewers couldn't see over the command walkway (most likely to keep distractions to a minimum I supposed), I could have sworn that I could almost see Tam standing up at his station, feel his gaze and his mounting horror flowing in my direction. Just as clearly, I could also swear on all the stars that I saw his officer clasp a hand hard on his shoulder and shove him back down into his seat. There wasn't anger in that motion. It was more protective, trying to keep one of his best communication specialists out of whatever confrontation was about to take place.

This was crazy. I couldn't see through plasteel. I had to be having a meltdown, or battle stress, or… or something!

Tam's worry felt like prickling nettles across my skin, something flashed through my mind: the image of a particular datacard. My eyes widened as I stared up at Master C'Baoth, fear coursing through my veins with a ferociousness that left me breathing hard. The weight of that datacard, the one that contained all the information Tam and I had put together regarding the Jedi Master, was like a stone in the left thigh pocket of my jumpsuit. If he found that…

"Peace, Master C'Baoth," a smoothly modulated voice cut through the silence, accompanied by the sound of several sets of boots hurrying down into the crew pit. "I am certain there is a logical explanation for this."

I almost fainted. The scariest man on this ship had just joined us. Tam's worry and terror spiked in time with my heartbeat, so much so that I swore I could taste his pulse on my tongue. The world started to swim in hazy lines, darkness washing across my vision. I was hyperventilating, the combination of my own fear and Tam's anxiety too much for my nervous system to bear. The familiar hard steps of stormtrooper boots came towards me, Pieterson's warning of how "plastic disposable conscripts" or whatever he'd called us could be executed and brushed aside over simple mistakes, screaming through my—

Abruptly all those images and feelings from Tam vanished. Not banished back into the recesses of my mind, or ripped from my head as rumors said Jedi powers could do to thoughts. No, these were cut off. Like someone had thrown a switch. One minute I was painfully aware of Tam's concern, and the next it was just my feelings in my own head. It was oddly comforting. It was oddly lonely.

It left me shaking in my seat, cold sweat beading on my forehead. What the hell was happening to me?

The part of my mind that wasn't trying desperately to go into shock realized that C'Baoth stiffened at almost the exact moment those images were gone from my mind. "Ysalamiri," he murmured, the strange word laced with so much acidic hatred that I was surprised the word wasn't etched onto the nearest surface.

I had no idea what in the known galaxy an ysalamiri was, but at that moment I was beyond thrilled that something else had captured this madman's attention.

"You have lied to me, Grand Admiral Thrawn," C'Baoth had the nerve to say, twirling around to face him. "You promised me Jedi, and here I find one hidden in your midst."

He thrust a finger at my face, the tip of it lancing past Colclazure's arm, nearly touching my nose.

"There are no Jedi on my team," Ensign Colclazure snapped, his voice smothered in bruised Imperial dignity. "Master C'Baoth, you must be mistaken. I would like it very much if you would remove your accusations and your finger from my crewman's fa—"

"Thank you, Ensign," Grand Admiral Thrawn cut in, voice not more than a foot away. "Your devotion to your crew is noted and appreciated. I will handle this from here."

"Yes, sir," Colclazure answered briskly.

And to my own personal horror, he stepped out from between me and the raging mountain of crazy.

Grand Admiral Thrawn casually stepped into that vacancy, standing more at my side than between me and C'Baoth. His hands were clasped behind his back, his stance at ease. Calm and collected as if we were holding a debriefing instead of what was shaping up to be a Corellian standoff. I couldn't help but stare up at him a moment, noting the deep blue of his skin and how the tone itself picked out the blue lowlights in his black hair. All of that contrasted in a startling way with the pure white of his uniform. It was the glowing red eyes and their lack of pupil or iris that was the alarming thing about him. That, and the air of command that he wore like a second skin.

I'd never been this close to him before, yet I could feel that aura in him like static in the air. It calmed me in a way. That he could be this collected in the face of Master C'Baoth's rage gave me hope that I could do the same. Mentally I drank in that aura, took deep calming breaths. Like during the combat, I realized that I wasn't alone. I had training. I had my officer behind me and my Admiral beside me. I was a good crewman, skilled even. All I had to do was trust my chain of command.

My heart slowed, my vision leveling out.

"I have promised you Jedi, yes," the Admiral replied soothingly, flicking a glance in my direction. "_Specific_ Jedi, if memory serves. And I told you it would take time to retrieve them. You promised to give me that time."

"Specific Jedi," C'Baoth echoed, his tone coming dangerously close to mocking. "And I promised to assist your crew in battles. Nowhere in that agreement did we state how _you_ would handle those that resisted my power."

That stupid finger was thrust at my face again.

Thrawn's eyes glittered darkly, twin pits of hellfire that belied his calm expression. He had not missed the insult in that statement. "Master C'Baoth—"

C'Baoth spun around, ignoring him. The hand pointing the finger at my face snapped forward to grip my chin. In a smooth motion he jerked me forward until I nearly fell out of my chair. "How did you do it?" he breathed into my face. "Tell me your tricks. I could not feel the Force in you when I first walked down into this crew pit. If you are not a Jedi as your _courageous_ Grand Admiral seems to be implying, tell me then how you pushed me out of your mind. Because I know you did. Do not try to deny it."

He shook my head until I felt my eyes cross, my world spin. Something within me snapped, something that remembered the feeling of thousands of flies crawling inside my skull. Something that rebelled with all its might at the thought that this bastard had tried to crawl into my head, had told me that all my thoughts and feelings and even my very will was his. Something akin to vengeance for Lieutenant Hollinger. The man had been wickedly cruel, but no one—_no one_—deserved to have their mind ripped away like that.

"I am an imperial crewman," I said through gritted teeth. One hand gripped his wrist, the other balled into a fist. "I don't answer to you. Do not touch me!"

I swung my fist at his head with all the strength fear-and-anger-born adrenaline could give me. Blue skinned fingers flashed out, caught my wrist in an iron grip and yanked backwards and to the side before I could strike my intended target. My face also slid with the movement, and I cried out as I felt C'Baoth's fingernails scrape along my jaw hard enough to draw blood.

I ended up several paces away from C'Baoth, still seated in my chair with my back to the Grand Admiral. His hand was locked around my wrist, forcing my arm down, his other hand landed gently but firmly on my shoulder. He glanced down at me, a slight frown creasing his lips. A reminder to sit still and shut the hell up.

"The crewman is correct," Grand Admiral Thrawn stated coolly. "She does not answer to you. She ultimately answers to me. And she _will_ answer to me for her actions today," he added firmly before C'Baoth could object further.

The hand on my shoulder tightened slightly, and I forgot how to breathe again. Answer to the Admiral? Even Ensign Colclazure winced at that.

And that datacard in my pocket suddenly felt like a ton of lead.

The stormtrooper with that strange framework draped across his shoulders moved closer to the Admiral. C'Baoth's eyes tracked that stormtrooper, or more to the point they tracked the framework and the snake-like creature clinging to it. A sardonic smile touched his lips.

"I'm sure you will find the conversation to your liking," he sneered. "Do you know how she pushed me out of her mind? She painted me out, Grand Admiral Thrawn. She used _art_. She turned her mind into a canvas and literally painted herself a safety zone in her imagination. It's a shame you are not a Jedi, for you will never see it. Not as I saw it."

"It was truly a masterwork of color and texture," C'Baoth continued, voice becoming wistful in a heartbeat, his eyes taking on a dreamy quality. "Color so vivid that it transcended vision into sound, and then from sound to tactile sensation. Have you ever heard color, Grand Admiral Thrawn? No, I suspect that you haven't. It has an indescribable tone, a property unlike anything I have experienced." Those dark eyes snapped into focus with jarring alacrity. As if someone had taken a cloth and wiped away that wistful moment to reveal the haunting arrogance beneath. "You have a great artist right before your eyes and you did not see it."

My mouth fell open despite my best efforts to sit still. He was taunting the Admiral… with art? With _my_ art? Why in the galaxy would the Admiral give a flip about having an artist on board? It wasn't like my artistic skills were some great weapon he could use. What tactical advantage did this lunatic believe artwork would provide to a war machine? _Live in fear, Rebellion, or my crewman here will paint you into submission!_ Yeah, that sounded about as effective as screaming at a wall and expecting it to give way.

The hand on my shoulder flexed fractionally, and I closed my mouth with an audible click of teeth.

"Then I shall greatly look forward to the conversation," the Admiral replied with a nonchalant shrug. "Is there anything more, Master C'Baoth?"

It was clearly a dismissal, and one C'Baoth chose to ignore. "My Jedi—"

"Will be procured for you in time," Admiral Thrawn cut him off this time, an edge of menace starting to work its way into that civilized tone. "I grow tired of having this conversation, Master C'Baoth. You will have them eventually. And when you do, I suspect you will not want to bother with a lone crewman and whether or not she possesses your coveted Jedi qualities. Not with the bounty of talents that I will provide to you."

"The twins," C'Baoth murmured, his eyes taking on that dreamy aspect again. He was silent for a moment before he drew himself up to his full height. "You are correct. Once my Jedi are in my hands, I will be satisfied. They had best come soon, Grand Admiral Thrawn. I grow impatient and tire of this waiting."

"Don't we all," Admiral Thrawn replied evenly, his eyes boring into C'Baoth's face.

C'Baoth held his gaze for a long while. And then he glanced back down at me, at the way I was held into my chair by the Admiral. Or rather the possessive way that I was held, I realized. Somewhere in my terror I had forgotten that Grand Admiral Thrawn did nothing without deliberate planning and care. He was making a point, a show of force in his handling of me. Stating very loudly for the entire bridge crew to see that he would not willingly allow C'Baoth to tear his way through the crew. We belonged to the Empire, and the Empire belonged to Thrawn.

It made me love him in that moment. It made me thankful and proud that I was under his watch, that even a lowly crewman like me was worth his protection.

Master C'Baoth took in the scene before him, the silence on the bridge that trembled on the edge of brittle horror. He looked to the stormtrooper and that framework. He looked to the ysalamiri creature that clung to it. Finally, he locked eyes with the Admiral again.

And then the crazy son of a bitch laughed. Threw back his head and cackled, the raucous sound making me shrink back into my chair. Unconsciously I tried to pull my arm away from the Admiral's grasp, to jerk away from this dangerous madcap and his hysterical laughter.

Thrawn's fingers tightened almost painfully in response. "Remain," he said softly, the single word knifing through C'Baoth's guffaw and my fear until I froze where I was.

He never took his eyes off the laughing madman, never let go of my shoulder or my wrist.

"She will kneel before me eventually," C'Baoth remarked casually when his laughter faded. "As will you all. I have foreseen it. Go forth and conquer your pathetic little star systems, Admiral. Just remember your promise. You will deliver my Jedi to me."

With a flurry of brown robes, he made his way back up the crew pit. I would have curled up in my chair and sobbed if I wasn't being held down to it. "Sir," I whispered quickly, the words trembling and tripping all over themselves. "I am not a Jedi, sir. I'm loyal to—"

"Quiet," he said, and again I snapped my mouth closed.

No one spoke. No one even dared to breathe until we all heard the turbolift doors open and close. A small explosion could have occurred in the heartbeats of time it took for Master C'Baoth to exit the bridge and not a one of us in the crew pit would have reacted to it. I don't think anyone else on the bridge would have, either, for that matter.

"He's gone," Captain Pellaeon said from the top of the stairway, the first to break the silence. It was then that I noticed he held a blaster in his hands.

"Standard procedure, Captain," Admiral Thrawn replied softly, sending a chill up my spine. "I want to know what he's doing next."

I had no idea what orders were contained in that 'standard procedure,' but whatever it was it brought a tight wolfish smile to the Captain's lips. That gave me chills, too. Captain Pellaeon nodded once to the stormtrooper next to the Admiral, the two of them heading up the stairs and back to the command stations. I watched them go, trying to keep my breathing even. Trying to forget the hands that rested on my shoulder and my wrist.

Trying really hard not to think about the datacard and the information contained within it.

The hand on my shoulder vanished, and I felt his fingertips reappear under my chin. He tipped my head back until I was looking up at him, into those eyes. That small frown returned to his mouth. "Report to sickbay, crewman."

I swallowed hard, blinking. "Sir?"

Blue black eyebrows rose fractionally. "You are bleeding, crewman. You should have that attended to."

As if his words had conjured the wounds, I could suddenly feel the gashes on my face where C'Baoth had scratched my cheek. They were deep, stung like hell. The collar of my uniform stuck slightly to my neck where blood had run down and dried. "Yes, sir."

But he didn't move. He kept staring down at me, one fingertip keeping my head tilted back. One hand still locked around my wrist. I certainly wasn't going to be the first to move. I'd die of starvation in that spot, in that position, before I'd risk getting myself into further trouble. Not with that datacard in my pocket. Not with Tam's life hanging in the balance as well as my own.

He continued to stare down at me, as if he could read the frantic thoughts through my eyes, pursing his lips slightly. And then he simply let go. "Tend to your wounds, Crewman," he ordered, ascending the stairs. He paused at the top, glancing back at me. "And later you and I will have a talk regarding your actions today."

When he was gone, I turned rapidly towards my officer. It was a tossup to say which one of us had the wider eyes: Ensign Colclazure or myself.


	8. Chapter 8 - Fallout

A/N: Thanks as always for the reviews and the private messages! They are truly inspiring and help to make this story that much better. I answer every one that I can.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please don't sue. This is pruely for fun.

* * *

Admiral Thrawn did not call for me that night. He didn't so much as acknowledge my presence when I returned to the bridge.

My trip through medbay wasn't long, the gashes more painful than they were dangerous. The doctor on duty, one Crispin Sedai, was able to treat them with a minor use of bacta and some sort of tool that amplified my natural healing process. Of course, after I explained what had caused the wounds, Dr. Sedai administered a round of severe antibiotics as part of my treatment. The unspoken reason being that everyone onboard knew something was off with Master C'Baoth. Dr. Sedai didn't want to take any chances that he brought something on board with him and had consequently infected me with it. Hence the massive amounts of antibiotics.

The dosage left me lightheaded and reeling for hours. I barely noticed when Dr. Sedai ushered me to the recovery ward, somehow stripped me of my jumpsuit, and got me to lay down. Somewhere in there, I drifted off into uneasy dreams, tossing and turning on the bed. Worlds that couldn't possibly exist in the known galaxy floated in the velvet blackness of space, their shapes and colorings so alien that my mind tried to gloss over them rather than process what I was seeing.

Towering above them all was a giant image of Grand Admiral Thrawn. He held his hands out before him, palms upraised in an imitation of a scale. In one hand he balanced the planet of Coruscant.

In the other… in the other stood myself, Calim Tam, and Lieutenant Reese of all people. We stood in a triangle formation in his palm, with Tam as the leading point. And we weren't in uniform, either. Well, we weren't in Imperial uniform, I should say. We were dressed in some sort of matching finery in shades of black and grey, an identical patch of color and a symbol of some kind decorating our left shoulders. Around our right wrists were simple silver cuff-like bracelets from which ran a length of delicate silvery chain. Those chains merged into a single length, flowing down to connect to a matching silver ring that Admiral Thrawn wore on his little finger.

The unknown planets turned in erratic patterns as the dreamscape shifted, flickered. In one moment, a golden crown appeared on Thrawn's forehead. The planets slowed back to their normal orbit at that. In another flicker, the Admiral's face was a mask of blood, his hands drooping, his glowing red eyes dimming in death. Coruscant fell, struck some unseen structure and shattered to dust. Blood filled the surfaces of the planets around him, becoming oceans that drowned people and dreams alike.

And the three of us? We fell, too, into that darkness, the delicate chains binding us to the Admiral snapping with a sound I could only describe as the death of hope.

I jerked awake on the medical bed, the scrubs I'd been given clinging to my skin with sweat. It had been a dream, I told myself fiercely. The imagery was easily explainable. It was a nightmare brought on from the trauma of today's events and my fear of what still awaited me as a result. The cuff on my wrist and the strange patch and symbol were byproducts of where the Admiral held me today. That had to be it. But I still shivered convulsively, hand flying to my wrist, trying to rub away the remembered feeling of metal against my flesh. I wasn't falling, I told myself. It was okay. It had all been a dream.

I brushed a hand through my sweat-slicked hair, rubbing it on the thin material of the medical scrubs.

And almost had a small heart attack. I was in medical scrubs! Which meant I wasn't in my uniform. Which meant I _didn't have the datacard on my person!_

I all but leapt off the bed. "Where is it?" I muttered frantically. "Where—"

Plastic clattered softly to the floor, catching my attention. The datacard skittered to a halt just beneath the bed, having fallen from the light coverlet I'd been using as a blanket. My heart sank back into my chest, my legs giving out. I collapsed more than bent down to the floor to pick up the one thing that could mean salvation or damnation for Tam and I.

Memory came slowly back to me, chasing away the remnants of sleep. Dr. Sedai had explained the possible side effects of the medicine, and while he had turned aside to prepare the injection, I had slipped the card from my pocket, concealing it in the strap of my bra. I was nearly weeping with relief when Dr. Sedai came running into the room. He glared at me as he crossed to the monitoring system I was apparently hooked up to, silencing the alarms I'd tripped with my panic.

No amount of apologies or protests that I had simply had a bad dream softened that glare.

Two minutes later, I was shoved back into my cleaned uniform and ushered out the door. I'd been cleared for light duty for the next twenty-four hours. Pink, tender, newly healed skin on my cheek was the only sign that anything had happened to me. That, and a ravenous appetite, courtesy of the good doctor. He'd revved metabolism as part of the treatment, forcing my body to burn more calories and speed up my natural healing process. But food had to wait. There was still five hours left to my shift.

There was still the looming conversation with Grand Admiral Thrawn to consider.

He was seated in the Admiral's chair when I stepped onto the bridge again, Captain Pellaeon standing by his shoulder. A holographic tactical display floated before them. I recognized enough of the tactics in that floating display to know that they were discussing the morning's battle at Bpfassh. Part of me made a mental note to thank Ensign Colclazure for all those lessons in military battle history. I hesitated a moment, wracking my nightmare rattled brain for clues as to what I should do. The Admiral had never defined a time for our "conversation." Was I supposed to report to him now, or was I supposed to make a request?

A movement caught my eye, pulling my attention away from the tactical display. Captain Pellaeon's hard gaze hit me like a hammer, disapproval wafting from him in waves. I swallowed, remembering why I had deemed him the second scariest man on this ship. He gave a minute shake of his head, a barely recognizable shift from left to right and back again. I got the message clear enough. Now was not the time. I was going to have to figure out how to make that request after all.

I blushed a deep scarlet and hurried along my way, presenting myself to my officer and finishing my shift. By the time Crewman Forde arrived to relieve me, I felt like my stomach was going to rise up in protest and start devouring my other organs. Extreme hunger could do that to a person. Aside from that, I knew Tam would be lingering by his station, making excuses to stay until he saw me heading for the turbolift. No doubt he and I were going to have a conversation of our own tonight, though this one I was fairly certain I was going to survive.

The conversation with the Admiral? I wasn't willing to bet on anything in regards to that.

Before I could log out of my station completely, the order log pinged. I paused, staring down at the incoming message. It was for me, personally. It was from the Admiral. I took a deep breath and keyed for delivery. My relief must have been palpable as the words scrolled across my screen. I was required to complete an incident report on the situation this morning and submit it to my officer and himself before I was relieved of duties for the day.

There was no appointment or request for a conversation in that message. Somehow, that did little to ease my fears.

I logged out, heading for the junior officer stations. I caught Tam's eyes long enough to give a fractional apologetic shrug. There was no way he could "linger" long enough for me to complete the report. It was going to take a while. I sat down at an empty station, entered my authorization code, and set my mind to the task at hand.

* * *

The mess hall was mostly deserted by the time I arrived. Only a few stragglers from my shift loitered at the tables, the rest being those poor souls that worked the odd shifts as their duties requested. Tam had long since eaten I was sure, and probably retired to his bunk. I didn't think he would sleep a wink until we spoke, and I felt a bit guilty for that. But circumstances were out of our control at the moment. I took solace in the fact that the datacard was once again in my thigh pocket, letting that assuage my guilt for his lack of sleep.

I nodded to Ensign Megga Tarn from Engineering, smiled a greeting to Crewman Bart Darthon from Maintenance, two acquaintances I had met thus far while serving on the _Chimaera_. Both of them looked like I felt: worn out and wearied to the bone. None of us appeared to be in any mood to make small talk. I winced a bit in sympathy as Darthon nearly fell asleep in mid-bite. As much as I wanted to ask them their perspectives on the battle this morning, or even what they felt about Master C'Baoth, I no longer had the energy.

Dr. Sedai had warned me that my stamina would fail as the day wore on, that the drugs he'd pumped into me would take their toll on my system eventually. Hence the need for light duty for a while.

I swallowed a yawn, picking up the offered tray from the serving droid. Double portions had been handed to me, and I knew that had to be Dr. Sedai's work, altering my meal plan to accommodate for the healing. I could have kissed him for it.

"Eating alone, little one?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin. Reese's voice had literally come out of nowhere. My tray nearly tumbled to the floor, or would have had he not reached over to steady it. Mirth glittered in those grey-blue eyes, nearly masking the concern in them that lurked just beneath the surface. I tried to glare at him in return, but no longer had the energy. It was all I could do to grip my tray with both hands and stand upright.

"What do you want?" I sighed heavily. "I don't have it in me to fight with you today. So please, go away. Pieterson's not here so you don't have to watch out for me. It's been a long day and I don't need this right now."

His hand touched my elbow, a feathersoft brush that prompted me to walk forward. "It has been a good day," he said with a grin. "We are both alive and well. That makes it a good day."

"I'll grant you that I'm alive," I retorted, letting him guide me. It was easier than struggling with him. Noticing for the first time that he was carrying a tray, himself. "What has you up so late?"

"My shift in the detention block ran over," he shrugged. "It happens sometimes. And you?"

I looked at him, really looked at him. He was dressed in a full uniform, I realized with a touch of surprise. Not the white combat armor that was the hallmark of the stormtrooper elite, but the solid black tunic and pants of an Imperial Staff Officer. I shook my head, feeling silly. Of course they would have a regular uniform to wear. What, did I expect all stormtroopers to live in their combat armor? And if they weren't dressed in armor, were they supposed to run around the ship naked?

A giggle escaped my lips. The thought of a platoon of naked, well-muscled men running rampant through the _Chimaera_ in just their boots and their blasters was an image I couldn't fight away. I was just too physically and emotionally drained to try.

I felt more than saw Reese cock an eyebrow at me, the gentle guiding hand at my elbow becoming a touch firmer. "Are you certain you are well, little one?"

My momentary amusement turned into a frustrated sigh. "For last time, Reese, my name is Idelas, not 'little one.' Call me by my first name if you have to, but this little one crap has got to go…"

I trailed off as reality caught up with me. We had walked a good portion of the way through the general mess hall, so much so that we were nearly to the double doors that separated the officers dining hall from the rest of the poor unranked slobs. My steps slowed, regardless of his prodding. "I can't go in there. I'm not an officer."

"We aren't going in there."

"What is with this 'we' statement? You are supposed to go in there, _Lieutenant_," I put strong emphasis on his rank. "It's part of the perks of rank or so I'm told. I'm a nobody crewman and I'm going to sit here and eat my food with the rest of the uneducated unranked commoners. Just pray I don't fall asleep face first into it."

Reese laughed, the sound deep and rich… and stopped abruptly at the look that crossed my face. Again he had to steady my tray. I hadn't meant to let the sound of his amusement affect me so badly. But all I could picture in my mind's eye was C'Baoth standing before me, laughing wildly. Even with Admiral Thrawn's presence at my back, I'd still felt my blood freeze at that maniacal sound. I had still tried to run, to twist away from his grasp. It hadn't mattered a bit that his hands on my person were the only things saving my life. Every instinct in my body told me to run. Just get away and run before it was too late.

_Run!_

I had my forehead pressed against the cold plasteel wall before I knew it, my palms pressed out to either side, flat against the wall. Breath was hard to come by, and I drew it in with ragged gasps. Reese was a comforting shadow behind me, one hand rubbing the back of my neck, the other slowly putting pressure on the small of my back. The pressure was strangely welcome, easing muscles I didn't know were tensed, steadying me so I didn't fall on the ground and curl up like a baby, sobbing. Sobbing over the memory of a laugh and the moment when I thought I would die.

"There we are," he said soothingly. "That's it. Come back to the land of the living, little one. Whatever you see in your mind's eye, let it go."

The cold wall felt good, too good to walk away from. Just like the steadying presence of Reese's hands. "I-I'm sorry," I stammered out, closing my eyes against the hot rush of tears. I would not fall apart in front of this man. I would NOT! "I told y-you it's been a long day."

"I know," was all he said, continuing to run that hand up the length of my spine, the pressure aligning my vertebrae one at a time.

I couldn't stop the groan of pleasure that escaped my lips when I felt something pop back into place that I hadn't known was out of line. "Burn me, Reese, how do you know how to do that?"

"I'm a stormtrooper," he said as if that explained everything. "When we're deployed on an extended mission, we need to know how to keep ourselves in fighting shape. That includes instances where we're in uncomfortable positions for a long period of time, and how to recover from them quickly."

I tried to nod, but the delicious warmth from his hand on the back of my neck contrasted so soothingly with the coldness against my forehead. "I see," I tried lamely.

He swallowed another chuckle before it came out. "I doubt that," he replied. "How do you feel?"

I took a deep cleansing breath, amazed at how I was breathing evenly again. "Better," I said, surprising myself by meaning it.

The world was back in focus, the demons that had shattered my control sliding back into the darker recesses of my mind. Tentatively I raised my head from the wall, trying a small step back. I expected there to be some resistance from him. Based on the predatory playfulness I experienced with him in the workout area, I wouldn't have been surprised if he held me prone like that until I squirmed or begged or cut some kind of deal for my release.

But I stepped back and so did he, giving me room. I took another deep breath, locking down the tears that had threatened to fall a moment ago before turning around. There was no mocking on his face or in his eyes. There was … nothing really. No judgment. No sympathy. No amusement. Not even an acknowledgement of the fact that I'd nearly had a nervous breakdown right in front of him. Just a tiniest edge of relaxed concern added a tint of blue to those grey eyes.

I wanted to ask him how he knew that calming technique. More than that, I wanted to ask him why he bothered using it on me. But I wasn't that brave yet. Talking about anything more than general pleasantries was beyond my capabilities at present.

"Thank you," I managed out instead.

He shrugged and picked up both our trays from a nearby table. "You owe me one, now, little one," The corner of his mouth turned up in a slightly mocking smile at the way I stiffened. "Calm down. I'm not going to hold this one over your pretty head. I'm going to cash it in now. First off, I'm going to call you 'little one' because it amuses me. You're no longer going to protest it. Second, you're going to follow me. Not because you owe me anything, but because I have your food. If you want to eat, you'll follow."

I rubbed my hands over my face. Stars, I was too tired and too hungry for this. "Fine, fine," I waved him forward. "I'm yours to command. Lead on, oh fearless stormtrooper."

This time he didn't hide the chuckle, and this time it didn't send me into terror-filled memories of madmen and Admiral's hands on my skin. I followed him to the section of the mess hall affectionately referred to as 'the slums.' It was comprised of a single row of tables closest to the doors leading to the officer's dining hall. Those tables were generally left empty by us non ranked, knowing that they were saved for officers that had decided to "slum it" and invite those beneath them to share a meal.

Only one of those tables was occupied at the moment, and Reese lead me towards it. I groaned aloud again as I realized who our dinner companions were: the other four stormtroopers that had so mercilessly ridiculed me that evening when Ensign Colclazure put me through marching and turning drills.

Reese glanced over his shoulder. "Follow me," he said. "You stated you were mine to command. So follow."

I shook my head, doing as he asked and sitting at the table next to him. I was painfully aware of the fact that all five men at the table wore the impeccable custom tailored tunics of full officers, their rank bars glinting with polished pride in the muted lighting. I wore the standard jumpsuit of a crewman. I decided to blame my overwhelming jealousy on the fact that I was just tired. Yes, that had to be it. I didn't want to be an officer. I wanted to go home. I wanted to be free to paint again, right? Right?!

But the memory of Ensign Colclazure's praise surfaced, bringing with it the remembered pride I'd felt at his words. The warmth of Admiral Thrawn's hands on my wrist and shoulder, the epic contrast with the frost in his hard words as he warned Master C'Baoth that I was his, brought with it the love and respect I'd felt for my supreme commander in that moment. I would have died for him right there if he'd asked it of me.

My stomach growled loudly, but I'd found that I'd lost my appetite. _Oh, stars, I _am_ being molded against my will. I am becoming one of them. Pieterson was right._

I shot Reese a withering glare, filling it with all the feelings of jealousy and unease in my chest. "One of these days I'm going to have to learn to watch what I say around you."

One of his friends grinned widely. "That you should. Never tell the Lieutenant that you're under his command. He'll take you up on that offer before you can blink."

Reese didn't bother denying it. Or acknowledging my look. He dug heartily into his food. After glancing at each man in turn, I gave a resigned sigh and dug in, myself, nearly matching Reese in my intent to clean my plate. Appetite or no, I needed to eat.

"Nice appetite," one of the others said, and I was a little surprised to see there wasn't a mocking look on his face.

"It happens when med bay revs your metabolism for healing," I said tartly. "Not to mention when they blast you with enough antibiotics to fell a gundark."

They all laughed at that. "Ah," replied Number Three with a grin. If they weren't going to introduce themselves, I was going to give them all numbers. "I see the good doc hit you up with a stormtrooper special."

"A what?"

"Stormtrooper special," said the one that commented on my appetite. I named him Number One. "It's the standard inoculation cocktail we all get before we go planet-side. Rips you up inside pretty good, but it'll save your life. Boosts your immune system like nothing else. It'll have you seeing stars the first couple of times you receive it. You get used to it after a while as your body adjusts."

I blinked at that. Well, that explained my strange dreams. "That explains a lot."

Number Four, who happened to be seated next to me, lifted a finger in my direction. I saw it coming, knew rationally in my head that he wasn't going to hurt me. He was going to make some smart assed comment about the newly healed skin on my face, maybe ask me to tell the story. They were goofing off, these men with their rough sense of humor, and I was the chosen sport of the evening. It was harmless fun. I knew this. I knew it in my heart.

But my brain wouldn't listen to my heart. And those horrible images of C'Baoth pointing at me, of Grand Admiral Thrawn trapping me against his chest with his fingertip beneath my chin, started to boil to the surface. My fork was in my hand. I knew I would stab Number Four in the eye before I'd let him touch me, before I'd let any physical memory of what had happened to me today anywhere near my body.

Reese's hand closed gently over mine, his large enough to enclose mine and most of the fork. I whipped my head in his direction. And in the blink of an eye he closed the distance between us and kissed me. It was a good kiss. It was a startling kiss. It accomplished his aim of shocking me out of my dark reverie. He didn't expect me to part my lips for him. I could tell by the way he started in surprise. But he wasn't the type to turn down the invitation. His tongue slipped inside, deepening the kiss. Tasting me and letting me taste him back.

Stars, but it was a good freaking kiss.

The wolf-whistles from his pals made me pull back first. I stared at Reese, my face burning from my blush, unsure whether to be pleased or angry. He merely lifted his eyebrows.

"You were staring at my friend so intently, little one," he said by way of explanation, releasing my hand. "I was jealous that you would kiss him first."

Number Four shrugged a shoulder and gave a wide dazzling grin. "I am the best looking one at the table," he said without any trace of modesty.

"Be that as it may," Number One added, sarcasm thick in his voice. "No touching the Lieutenant's property. She's under the Lieu's command by her own admission. At least for tonight. "

"At least for this meal," I corrected tersely.

That earned a round of approved laughter, even from Reese.

"Tell me," Number Four said after we'd all eaten a few bites. "How'd you get that wound?" He was obviously indicating my cheek, though this time he was smart enough not to try and touch me.

"Master C'Baoth," I said. The table went silent, all eyes on me. And for a wonder it wasn't in a mocking way. Was that a touch of respect I saw in their eyes? That pumped me up a bit, chased away some of the anger. "What? He grabbed my face. We argued. Admiral Thrawn settled it. Case closed."

Number Two whistled low, smirking. "I think you're the only one on this boat that can truthfully claim that you were in a showdown with a Jedi Master _and _a Grand Admiral and _lived_ to tell about it."

My hand gingerly touched my newly healed cheek, some of the bravado I'd felt a moment ago fading. "Trust me," I murmured, shuddering slightly. "I mostly wish I hadn't."

"Rubbish," Reese put in, smiling that friendly smile again. "I call rubbish on your fake modesty, little one. There's pride in you, and I know you feel it at surviving that encounter. All you need is to learn combat training. Then you'll avoid wounds like that."

I frowned at him, trying to decide if he was mocking me or being serious. "I have self-defense training. It's part of the standard training package—"

The laughter around the table was definitely loud and most definitely mocking this time. Number Three laughed until tears were running down his face. "That's not combat training. That's children's games."

I thought about the fork in my hand, thought hard about showing him just how well I'd learned my 'children's games' during my initial training. A nice scar might make him think twice before he mocked a member of the Fleet again.

Number Four deftly plucked the fork from my hand before I knew it. He waved it in the air before me, making a "tsk tsk" sound. "If you had proper combat training, I never would have been able to do that."

I glowered at him, snatching back my fork. He merely grinned innocently. "Whatever. You all talk a big game."

The table quieted again, and I felt them all staring at me. They were still smiling, that much hadn't changed. But there was a feral quality to the smile now, something indefinably dangerous. And that danger was directed at me. I lifted my eyebrows in surprise. What? Could the strong larger-than-life stormtroopers not take some gentle ribbing from a little Fleet crewman? Was I supposed to sit at this table and take their abuse but not say anything back?

Number One shook his head slowly, that predatory yet playful light I'd seen in Reese's eyes starting to burn in his. "Are you saying we can't back up what we claim?"

"I think that's what she said, alright," Number Three added.

Number Two and Number Four glanced at each other, their smiles widening. Number Four started to chuckle. "Challenge accepted," said Number Four.

"You're right about this one, Lieu," Number Two smirked. "She's got spirit. You know how to pick them. Let's hope she measures up."

Measures up? Measures up to what, exactly? Oh, stars, what else had I gotten myself into today?

"Then it's settled," Reese said, reaching over to collect my empty try. I hadn't even realized that I'd cleaned the thing during the conversation. "The next time you have off shift, little one, you'll call me or one of my men. We'll start to show you the difference between so called 'self-defense' training and true combat skills."

"What?" I asked dumbly, staring at him like he'd grown a second head.

Reese smiled, truly smiled like that time in the workout area. His face lit up with it. "Say yes, little one. Remember, you are mine to command until this meal is finished. That was our arrangement. I have yet to put the trays away, so the meal is still in progress. Say yes."

"Yes," I whispered hoarsely, and then gave myself a shake. "I have to warn you, though. Ensign Colclazure has first call on my free time. I may not have much to give you."

"It'll be enough. I trained these men, here, myself. We'll find a way to make this work. Just remember one thing while you hate me for putting you through real training," Reese said easily, an intensity working its way into the predatory-playful light in his eyes. "You agreed to it."

Oh, son of a _bitch_.


	9. Chapter 9 - Crossing Lines

A/N: As always, thanks again for the private messages and reviews. I really do try to answer all the ones that I can. Any recommendations as to how to make this story better are appreciated!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

He was staring at me.

I tried not to fidget under the weight of that stare, forcing my hands behind my back and my stance into that 'at ease' posture I'd come to know so well. It was truly my new 'relaxed' stance I noted with a touch of bitter regret. Never in my wildest dreams had I thought my life would end up this way. Three months ago, I would have stood with my thumbs hooked through the front pockets of my trousers, my hip pushed out a bit to the left and one foot slightly behind the other. My head would have tilted to the left, my hair loose and blowing around my shoulders. And I would have grinned that impish grin, the one that made everyone think that I knew more than I let on.

That had been a relaxed pose for me. But that now seemed like a lifetime away, seemed like a life that belonged to an entirely different person. That Aria Idelas only existed in memory, her naive innocence stripped away by Imperial conditioning and fear and paranoia. Until all that was left was the crewman. Until all that I had to look forward to in my future was duty.

That revelation tasted like bitter ash in my mouth.

My shoulders were level and squared as I met that stare, wondering what thoughts lurked in those stormy eyes. I would have said that he was brooding about something, such was the way he leaned against the table, arms folded across that massive chest of his. But I didn't know him that well. In fact, I didn't know him at all, really. All I had was a hunch as to his character and his personal motivations. It wasn't nearly enough in which to base a friendship.

Yet I trusted him. I trusted him completely. It was an irritating conundrum.

Reese's band of merry men had disbursed already, taking with them the remnants of our meal and apparently any sort of laughter. He and I were left to stare at one another, the tension drifting between us in the air. The lingering emotions from that one kiss almost thick enough to choke on. After staring at him for all of two minutes in silence, watching the way those grey eyes flickered with hints of blue as the thoughts drifted across his mind, I decided it was time to go. It was better to leave before something else happened, something I may or may not have regretted in the morning.

I got two steps before his arm bolted out, barring my way.

"Do not offer yourself to me like that again, unless you mean it," He said softly, peering intently at me.

I fixated on his arm, not daring to look up into his eyes right then. He didn't touch me with it, which earned him major points in my favor. I was becoming increasingly annoyed at the fact that all the important men in my life – with the exception of Tam and Pieterson – had taken it upon themselves to manhandle me as they saw fit. While I couldn't do anything to Admiral Thrawn or Ensign Colclazure, I would certainly let Reese know what I thought of that the next time he touched me. Lieutenant or not, he at least was outside of my chain of command. I could definitely voice my opinion to him—loudly, in fact.

So why wasn't I doing it now? Why wasn't I screaming at him, demanding with what meager Fleet pride I'd managed to acquire that he get out of my way? Because, he was talking about that kiss. That one glorious, amazing kiss.

Or more to the point what that kiss could have lead up to.

"I meant it," I whispered, surprising myself.

That arm, with all its corded muscle, flexed slightly. "No, you didn't."

"Reese, I think I would know what I meant when I—"

"You didn't mean it," he said quietly but with force, his eyes finding mine and latching on hard. "But when you do, understand that you had best be committed to your decision, Aria Idelas. I will not take you to my bed if you do not wish it, but neither will I turn you away if you offer. And I will not apologize for it later. I am one of the big bad Imperials that you conscripts fear. Do not ever forget that."

His use of my name drove home his point. The girl I had once been would have quailed under the weight of that stare, would have screamed in horror at the impact of his words. Even now I had a really hard time keeping my eyes on his, wanting to be far away from this Imperial and the quiet threat in his tone. He wouldn't hurt me; I still believed that with all my being. But he was warning me that, for all his dark playfulness, for all the irreverent insubordination that he put up with from me, he was not a man to be toyed with in any sense of the word.

That kiss had crossed some line between us, and he was giving me this one chance to cross back into my safety zone before it was too late.

I closed my eyes and tried to breathe away the rising fear in my chest. "I won't forget it, Lieutenant."

"Good," He glanced away a moment, and when he looked back at me that familiar predatory-playfulness had returned. Gone were the blue-swirling storm clouds in those flint-grey eyes. "Now, little one, run off to your bunk before I change my mind and take you to mine instead. I'd imagine you have had quite the day today, and tomorrow promises to be more of the same."

I all but ran from the room, the sound of his amused chuckle following me. When I finally hit my bunk, it was fully clothed with my boots still on. I had about a minute to slip my hand beneath my pillow, to run my fingers over the odd twist to the lip of the cover that was Pieterson, Tam, and my signal that we needed to meet as soon as possible. Fat chance of that happening this evening, I mused blackly. The fear-born adrenaline spike that had supplied my needed flight from Lieutenant Reese was fading rapidly, sleep coming just as rapidly in its wake.

Even in sleep, I found no relief.

That damned dream I'd had in med bay surfaced with a vengeance. I saw the planets turning; saw the crown on Admiral Thrawn's forehead before it melted into a rain of blood. I saw Tam, myself and Reese in the palm of his hand, and I saw us fall together again. But this time there was a new element. There were ships in the air between the planets, starships in a multitude of styles from all over the known galaxy and probably places unheard of as well. In the flicker where my supreme commander stood tall and regal, wearing the golden crown, the ships flew in perfect formation, creating a protective barrier around him. In the flicker wherein he died, the front of those ships exploded in a jet of flame, dying as Thrawn died.

Falling as we fell…

* * *

I felt worse the following morning that I had the night before. Other nightmares had followed in the wake of the first, though I could not remember them as clearly. In one, Pieterson's blood sprayed across a canvas and became the pigment I used to paint a portrait of my military career. In another, Tam had his hands around my throat, strangling me as Reese and Admiral Thrawn watched with flat detached expressions. I awoke screaming, clawing at the hands trying to hold me down to my bunk. Not realizing that it was Tam and Pieterson trying to wake me the whole time.

I owed them an apology. I owed them several, the least of which was for the scratches they now sported on their arms. They'd gone on to breakfast without me. I'd given the excuse that the drugs from Dr. Sedai had made me lose my appetite, which was pretty far from the truth. If anything, I could have eaten a mountain of food. I just wasn't sure I'd have kept it down, not after those dreams. All I could manage to do was numbly hand over the data card to Pieterson, as it was his turn to carry it.

I was a mess. Thank the stars that I was on light duty for the day.

I barely made it to shift change at the appointed two minutes ahead of oh-five-thirty. I had just smoothed my hands across my jumpsuit, straightened my hat and squared my shoulders with a bravado I definitely did not feel, when the lift doors parted. My feet skidded to a halt a fraction of an inch before I collided with none other than Grand Admiral Thrawn.

My eyes opened wide and I jerked back. "Sir," I managed breathily. "Apologies, sir. I did not mean—I mean to say I should watch where I am going."

He lifted his eyebrows. "True," he said, folding his hands behind his back. "Given the circumstances, it is forgivable. I trust you are sufficiently recovered to perform your duties, crewman?"

My face grew warm, trying not to think about yesterday and how wrung out I probably looked. Tried not to think about the events he was gracious enough not to reiterate. "Yes, sir. Dr. Sedai has put me on light duty."

"I see," he replied. And said nothing. Just stared at me with those arched eyebrows.

Just. Simply._ Stared_.

I felt my blush darkening, unsure of what to do. Why was he staring at me? Were we going to have that dreaded conversation right here in the lift in front of everyone?

And then it occurred to my sleep-deprived mind that I was standing in the middle of the lift doors like a complete moron. He was politely waiting for me to get out of his way. If I thought my face was red before, it was blazing now. "A-apologies, sir," I stammered, taking a step back into the lift. "I have no excuse for my behavior."

The corner of his lips twitched in an almost smile as he stepped in. "Calm yourself, crewman. As I said before, given the circumstances, your actions are forgivable. Now, if you'll excuse me?"

I blushed again as I realized I was still standing in the lift. Cursing under my breath, I exited.

"Crewman Idelas?" I heard him call softly from behind me, his voice bringing me up short. "I haven't forgotten our impending conversation. It will happen soon enough. Congratulations, by the way."

I spun around with a perfect military turn, but it was too late. The lift doors closed with a soft hiss, taking the Admiral from my view. I tried to get my heart to climb off its perch on my tongue and back into my chest. Congratulations? For what, surviving the encounter with C'Baoth and himself? The fact that I had no clue what he was talking about bothered me to no end. The whole strangeness of the conversations, first with Reese and now with the Admiral, were ratcheting up my paranoia to Pieterson levels.

But there was nothing I could do, and I knew it. Besides, I was once again standing in the middle of the bridge like a raw cadet fresh in uniform. A quick glance to the command station revealed that Captain Pellaeon had noticed it, too. The look in his eyes suggested that I was about one second away from being reminded just why the bridge was not a place to linger. I moved quickly, practically diving into the crew pit in my haste to reach my station. Ensign Colclazure might let my tardiness pass in light of my conversation with the Admiral. Captain Pellaeon, I was learning, held his crewers to a much higher standard.

I ran to my station.

* * *

Though I was on light duty according to the doctors, it was apparently no excuse to slack off on work. Or my lessons in becoming a proper officer, either. Ensign Colclazure had not forgotten his promise to give me a new set of lessons after the battle of Bpfassh. Secretly I had hoped that the altercation with Master C'Baoth would have deterred the man from wanting anything more to do with me. On the contrary, it seemed to incite him to push me harder — by awarding me with a promotion.

_That_ explained the Admiral's casually tossed "congratulations."

For what felt like the millionth time this day, my hand strayed to the Imperial sigil patch on the shoulder of my jumpsuit. Or more to the point, the single dark red bar that now underlined it. Reese's prophecy had come to pass. I was now officially Ensign Colclazure's attaché, my rank that of Midshipman. It was a step above crewman but not a true officer by any stretch of the imagination. I was still addressed as "crewman." I still wore the ill-fitting jumpsuit instead of a tailored uniform.

I made a mental note to tell Lieutenant bloody Reese and his bloody band of bloody merry men to go to hell. If for the simple reason that I was tired of Reese being right all the time.

My fingers trembled as they traced over that red bar, remembering the look on Colclazure's face as he personally pinned it to my uniform. It wasn't protective or predatory. It was something in between, something I had yet to put a name to, something that added another layer of paranoia to my already paranoid life. I needed to talk to Tam, I told myself. If I could find a way to talk to him, he would make this all make sense. He had an amazing gift for putting puzzle pieces in their proper order, like the ties between C'Baoth, ysalamiri, and the strange antics of some of the crew.

He could help me sort out this craziness. I just had to find the time.

Of course Colclazure had given me my new rank on the bridge, naming me his attaché before our entire team. Pieterson's gaze had been hard to meet, and the seething disappointment in eyes had nearly undone me. It chased away the momentary thrill of pride that I'd done something right. That I'd proven Pieterson wrong – we weren't disposable plastic crewmen. We had value to the Empire, if only we worked as hard as we could and performed to the best of our abilities.

"You're never going to escape now," Pieterson murmured harshly when I took my station again. "You're one of them and they'll remember you."

My heart thudded a little faster at that and I had to fight to keep my face and voice calm. "I never planned on escaping," I murmured back. "I knew the moment they loaded me on that transport when I was conscripted that I wasn't going to leave before my term was up. Escape was always your plan, remember?"

The look he sent me could have melted steel. "Plan? What happened to the 'keep our heads down' plan? That not good enough for you anymore, midshipman?"

That did it. That crossed a line inside my head that I hadn't known was there, transforming fear and guilt into pure anger.

I pointedly turned my head away from my station, staring at him with all the cold rage I had. I could do that now. I was my officer's attaché. Professionally, it was my job to help him keep the crew in line and our unit running a personal level, it wasn't enough that I felt like a traitor to myself and my friends for being pleased at my new rank. Did he honestly expect me to refuse the promotion, essentially slapping the Empire in the face? Stars, I was simply trying to survive!

"No, it's not," I shot back, pure ice in my tone. "And in case you've forgotten, keeping my head down is no longer my choice. Not when I had a face to face confrontation with Master C'Baoth and Grand Admiral Thrawn. You tell me what in the galaxy I'm supposed to do with that? Neither man is likely to forget it any time soon."

"You don't have to be so proud about it."

"I'm not," I growled out through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the memory of Reese saying exactly that.

"Yes, you are," he growled right back. "Or was it another crewman named Idelas that had dinner with stormtroopers last night instead of returning to our bunk? Stormtroopers that were laughing and applauding your 'bravery.' Tam about lost his mind when you didn't show up. It almost killed him when we found out that you were off having a late night rendezvous with your stormtrooper lover."

Some of the cold fire left my eyes, and most likely some of the color from my face. Dammit, I should have realized that Tam would have searched for me. And it shouldn't have been a surprise to believe that others saw Reese kiss me. Ensign Tarn and Crewman Darthon were just as much Tam's friends as they were mine, and it wasn't a giant leap of logic to realize they'd witnessed the whole thing between me, Reese, and his buddies.

And in true Pieterson paranoia fashion, he'd taken all these clues and run in the wrong direction with them.

"Yeah," Pieterson hissed quietly, unkindly, into the silence. "We know all about your tryst now. You're becoming one of them, Aria. Stop it now. Just stop. Before it's too late for you. Before they never let you go."

I didn't want to talk about this anymore, not with our officer's eyes drifting over to us, wondering at a conversation that should have ended minutes ago. I let my gaze go flat and distant as I'd seen Colclazure's do time and again. As I saw Admiral Thrawn's and Reese's go in my dream. "Attend to your duties, crewman," I said, matching his quiet, unkind tone.

Pure venom filled his eyes at that. "Yes, midshipman," he answered tersely, turning my new rank into a curse. Back stiffening as he turned back to his work.

I turned back to mine with a renewed vengeance, trying to work out the rage that was building in my veins. It was at odds with my shame I felt at his words. Believing that Tam thought I was out having fun with Reese while he worried was enough to make my stomach churn. And Pieterson's refusal to let me so much as explain myself before he harshly accused me of turning to the Empire crossed more lines than I knew how to count.

Maybe I shouldn't have shut him down with an order like that. Stars alone knew he was going to make me pay for that in sullen stares and harsh words later, but I had to do something. This wasn't the place to air our grievances to each other. And I knew very well that Pieterson wasn't going to shut up until he either made his point or got the last word.

So why, then, did I feel like I'd done him wrong? It was a damn good question.


	10. Chapter 10 Revelations

A/N: Another long chapter. I hope you enjoy it. :) While Thrawn is not in this chapter, that doesn't mean that the Grand Admiral has forgotten about these three crewman nor have they forgotten about him. He's going to return with a vengeance, fear not! Thanks again for all the kind reviews! They really keep me going.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is strictly for fun.

* * *

I wanted to kill myself by the time my shift had ended. Just save my commanding officer and everyone else the trouble and take a very long walk out the nearest airlock.

Six hours after stepping foot onto the bridge, I found myself heading back to the turbolift with a new set of orders. As part of my new duties, I was to head to Ensign Colclazure's office and begin work on his multitudinous reports. Evidently becoming his attaché meant that I handled the paperwork now, and mentally I kicked myself for not seeing what Reese had seen so easily. All those long nights standing at perfect attention at his shoulder, reading off data to him to input into his reports. I'd innocently thought it was part of my instruction on discipline. Colclazure had been smarter than that. He'd been familiarizing me with all aspects of his reporting work, so that I could take it over when he thought I was ready.

What fun for me.

My limbs felt like rubber, Dr. Sedai's warning echoing in my memory, warning me that the drugs would take their toll on my body if I did not rest and eat. I'd done neither this day, and I was hurting as a result. Thankfully, Colclazure had an office to himself. I could sit at his desk and look like living death in privacy.

Another added perk of being secluded in his office was that no one was around to hear my very un-officer-like string of curses at each ping of his computer. Like when Ensign Colclazure found a mountain of errors in my last batch of reports and had sent them back to me with a request to redo them. How he had the time to simultaneously run his shift on the bridge and check the caliber of my reporting was beyond me. But find the time he did, and I set my fingers to the daunting task of applying his corrections.

He finally dismissed me at the end of my shift, though I had the feeling it wasn't because he wanted to. No, the look of mild disapproval on his face spoke volumes as to what he wanted to do with me. Probably stand over my shoulder and reprimand me until I had those reports perfect, followed by another round of marching or military turning to reinforce his displeasure. I got the feeling, however, that he was following the orders of Dr. Sedai. Releasing me on time for once as his only concession to my need for 'light duty.' I wasn't going to argue the point.

The hallway was swimming when I stumbled from his office towards the turbolift. More than one officer glanced askance at me as I made my way down the corridor. No one bothered to stop and inquire as to why I moved like an extra in a bad holonet monster movie. They probably assumed that I had taken a beating from my officer, and professional courtesy kept them from becoming involved in someone else's disciplinary tactics. After all, no one wanted the returned favor of another officer poking into how they handled their own teams.

I wasn't entirely sure I was going to make it to my bunk, nevertheless to the mess hall. Taking deep breaths, I forced one foot in front of the other. The last thing I needed was to pass out in the hallway and wake up in med bay. Dr. Sedai would do more than read me the riot act for not taking care of myself. And then Ensign Colclazure would have his turn with me. I shuddered.

Those were conversations in a nasty long line of conversations that I didn't want to have, period.

And speaking of conversations I didn't want to have, guess who was in the turbolift when I walked in? You get two guesses, and for free I'll let you know it wasn't the Grand Admiral.

Pieterson's outright malicious glare was the first thing I saw. The second was the mingled hurt and relief in Tam's steady brown eyes. The doors were barely opened before both men reached out a hand, grabbed the front of my jumpsuit, and hauled me into the lift. Gravity felt like it tilted up on its axis, and it was all I could do to lean on Tam's shoulder and not cry. I was that damn tired and out of it. He was stiff as a board, unresponsive. But not unkind. Tam would never be unkind to me, even in his most enraged moments. That didn't guarantee kindness, though.

I had no idea how long we were in the lift or what floor we stopped on, but plainly it was a floor that saw very little use. There was staleness to the air that spoke of oxygen scrubbers badly in need of a filter change, a barren quality to the hallway that just seemed vacant. No deck on a Star Destroyer would ever be called musty or dirty, certainly not one on a flagship to a Grand Admiral. But the crew complement of the _Chimaera_ was low compared to the days when the Empire was at its height, and some floors that were not essential to every day functions were left alone.

Tam wrapped an arm around my waist, peering cautiously around one edge of the lift. Pieterson took the other. And then we were moving quickly down the hallway, so much so that Tam practically carried me, my feet not willing or able to keep up with the pace they set. We whipped around a curve, ducking into an empty supply closet. Pieterson set to locking the door while Tam sat me down against the wall.

A pouch was thrust into my face. The scrumptious aroma of meat waft up from it, mingling with the luscious fragrance of roasted vegetables in some sort of sauce.

"From Reese," Tam said tersely, sitting down across from me. "It's a field ration kit. He made me promise under threat of pain that I sit here and watch you eat every bite of it. Said it had enough calories to keep a person good for a day. He's a real piece of work, that one. "

I shoveled food into my mouth without grace or manners, hoping against hope that a) I would keep it down, and b) it was in time to keep me from passing out. At the very least it gave me something to do to avoid meeting Tam's stare. Or more to the point the upset and hurt within it. Part of me wanted to stop eating, to throw up my meal and try to explain everything to the man I thought of as my only real friend in this hell. But my body wouldn't get on board with that emotional plan. The food I was consuming tasted like paradise, and as much as I wanted to scream at Reese to stay out of my life, in that moment I could have hugged the stubborn bastard.

Tam handed me a canteen of water when I managed to slow down enough to take a sip. That tasted great, too. Next time, I wasn't going to ignore the doctor's orders, for serious. Not if I had to take another dose of that 'stormtrooper special.'

"He's not a bad man—" I tried.

"Stop," Tam held up a hand, mouth compressing in a thin line. "I don't want to hear about him, Idelas. I don't want to hear anything from you right now. I'm so angry that I can't see straight, and it has nothing to do with a stormtrooper Lieutenant threatening to break my face if I didn't do as he requested."

And there went my appetite. It figured that Reese would resort to threatening my friends to get what he wanted. I looked down at my half empty ration kit, pushing the food around with the spoon. "I'm not sleeping with him," I said quietly. "Regardless of what anyone says, I'm not sleeping with him."

Tam sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Just eat your food, Aria. We can't leave here until that kit is empty. Including the water."

"We?" I flicked a glance at Pieterson.

"Yeah, that includes me," he snapped, the full brunt of his glare stabbing down at me. "Though he added an additional 'if you so much as touch her once' to my list of orders. Apparently I must be the competition in his mind for your affections, midshipman, if I'm not allowed to touch you."

There it was again, that mocking tone that turned my title into a curse. And along with it his inevitable ability to get the facts absolutely wrong. I wanted so much to throw in his face the fact that Reese didn't think of Pieterson as competition. Far from it. Reese lumped him into the same category of dangerous scary that included such fiends as Master C'Baoth. I swallowed that desire along with a long pull on the canteen and shoveled in another mouthful of stew for good measure.

"Lay off, Pieterson," Tam replied, finally making eye contact with me again. Hurt was heavy in that gaze, and deep, deep annoyance rounded out that guilt cocktail. But there was also that indefinable quality that was _Tam_ in that gaze, the part of him that weighed and measured and put puzzle pieces in their proper order. "If she says she's not sleeping with Lieutenant Reese, then I believe her. And if that's the case, then you're not his competition. Be thankful for that."

Pieterson actually looked a little bit offended, which caught me off guard. I'd never given him so much as a hint of interest in a romantic sense. And by the way he was glaring at me, I would have thought I was the last female he'd want to have anything to do with in that way. Maybe I was reading too much into this. Maybe he was just offended that Reese didn't consider him competition in general.

I had to go with that idea. Otherwise, I was going to throw up. I didn't want to be anyone's romantic interest. I just wanted to go home.

"Whatever," Pieterson muttered, slouching against the door and folding his arms across his chest. "So can we go now? We've got things to do, Tam. And she's got new friends to watch over her now. She doesn't need us."

Sudden fear was rising in me, brought on by Pieterson's last barb. My hand reached out, caught Tam's hand gently. We were sitting so close to each other, our knees brushing. There was comfort in that small amount of contact, and I could tell by his posture that he felt it, too. It was not sexual, not like that tension that flared to life when Reese merely glanced my way. We were friends, Tam and I. Real friends. And I knew I wouldn't survive long if he shut me out of his life. I'd fall into Reese's arms and into Colclazure's teachings and the Aria that I was at my core would truly die.

All that would survive was a twisted thing of duty and paranoia and destruction, just another cog in the Imperial War machine.

"Do you believe that, Calim?" I asked him, breaking that unspoken code between officers that dictated the use of last names over first. "Do you believe that I don't need you anymore?"

His mouth worked soundless for a minute, his expression suffering with a battle of conscience. It hurt, that expression. It hurt even more that I was the one to cause it. Hurt so much that tears started to edge past my control, falling in fat droplets into my stew.

"No," he said at last, and the sigh that left his lips must have come from his toes on upwards. His hand gripped my shoulder, pulling me forward until our foreheads touched. "I believe you need me just as much as I need you. But I swear, Ari, if you do anything like this again, we are through. There's too much at stake now. So next time just get a message to me somehow before you disappear like that."

We sat like that for a long time, breathing each other's air, holding onto each other as if our sanity depended on it. Maybe it did. With the way changes were being flung at us left and right and our wills bending slowly under the weight of duty and command, it was life affirming to have that solid friendship, that solid touch. It was more intimate than a kiss, more necessary than breathing. It left me feeling grounded, more like the person that I had been before this nightmare began.

Pieterson was the one that brought us back to reality, clearing his throat so loudly that we both jumped. "Not to break up such a touching scene," he drawled, nearly snarling. "But we've got a time table to keep. If we're done with the little family reunion, can we get on with the business at hand?"

I brushed trying tears from my cheeks, and felt an echo of relief at seeing Tam blink unshed ones from his eyes. "Business?" I asked, taking a sip of the water and offering it to Tam.

Tam took a swallow, passing it off to Pieterson. Naturally, he rejected it. "We need to know what took place between you and Master C'Baoth."

I wanted to say 'nothing serious,' but I knew that wouldn't go over too well. "I honestly don't know. He accused me of being a Jedi of all things. And that got the Admiral involved."

Pieterson scoffed. "You're no Jedi."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," I shot back, ignoring the warning glance from Tam. The food was helping. I was clear headed for what felt like the first time in days, so much so that I was ready to match Pieterson's scathing commentary word for word. "I'm telling you what you wanted to know. He thought I was a Jedi because I somehow pushed him out of my mind."

Both men froze.

"He was in your mind?!" Pieterson demanded at the same time Tam exclaimed "You pushed him out of your mind? How?!"

I leaned back against the wall, letting my eyelids flutter closed. They were never going to believe what really happened, but I tried anyway. "Yes, he was in my mind. Near as I can tell, that was part of his 'assistance' during the battle. He told me to not be afraid and that he would control me during the fighting. Naturally I wasn't going to let that happen without a fight, so I sort of painted him out of my thoughts. Sort of."

I was right. Pieterson was giving me the look I normally gave him. The one that said that I had lost my damn mind. Tam, however, was regarding me with that puzzled measuring gaze of his.

"What else?" Tam asked quietly.

"There _was_ nothing else. I made up a corner of my thoughts that I… that I could hide in, I guess would be the best way to describe it. He was able to control the rest of me, like I'm assuming he did the rest of the crew. But it was different with me. It was like I could take back control whenever I wished. All I had to do was step out of my painting. I didn't, as I think I was too scared of the battle and failing my officer, so I let him control my body until it was over."

"You let him control you," Pieterson bit out each word, eyebrows drawn down in a scowl. "And now you think we can trust you? Kriff! We don't know what else he did to your mind. Tam, we should leave her here. Lock her in here and get out. For all we know she's already reporting back to that psycho. Any minute now a squadron of death troopers is going to burn down this door and kill us all."

Tam rolled his eyes, turning a level gaze on Pieterson. "Did you forget the part where I was on that bridge, too, at the same time? I felt the same thing that she felt. Do you think I'm just as compromised?"

Pieterson said nothing to that, scowling down at his boots.

"You felt the same?" I asked, perking up a bit. "That's great news. I mean, it's not great that we had to have our minds invaded like that, but it means that I'm not a Jedi or whatever. If you felt what I felt then the rest of the crew felt it, too. It wasn't an isolated incident. And that means there's no damage to us or anyone else…"

I let my words trail off, a sinking feeling chasing away my brief bout of euphoria. The look on Tam's face, the guilt etched into it, stole away all sense of hope. "Calim, you're scaring me. What? What have you figured out that I haven't?"

He reached out and took my hand in his, lacing his fingers through mine. "What else did you experience, Ari?" he asked gently.

"Nothing!" I nearly shouted. And then I remembered, remembered the feeling that I could see through the plasteel that separated my station from his. Remembered the frightening taste of his pulse on my tongue, his terror in my chest as Grand Admiral Thrawn approached.

"I… felt you," I managed out between stiff lips. "I felt your fear and for a moment I could almost see you at your station, trying to see what was happening at mine. Why? Why would I see and feel that? Stars, was Master C'Baoth right? Is that what you are telling me?"

I squeezed his hand until he flinched. And still I couldn't let go. "Am I a Force user? You have to know, or at least have figured out _something_ about it. You have the cleverest mind I have ever seen. You can make sense of any puzzle. You have to have some clue as to what happened on the bridge. Did… do you know if C'Baoth somehow tripped something in my head that made me a Force user?"

The thought chilled me to my toes, the rumors of how the Emperor and Lord Vader had hunted down and killed any person with a hint of Force ability sending me in a panic spiral.

Tam's warm hands were on my shoulders, gently shaking me. "You're not the Force user, Ari. I'm so sorry about this. I didn't mean for it to get out of control."

_The_ Force user? Out of control? "What are you saying?"

He let go, pushing to his feet to pace as much as he could in the empty closet. "It's no coincidence that we became fast friends, Aria. Something drew us together, something that made us trust each other from the beginning. Haven't you wondered about that?"

I nodded, speechless. Remembering the sudden way I had trusted him, and the sudden way I had known that Reese would never hurt me. Instinctive trust down to the bone for both men, trust I should have never offered either, and never this quickly. Especially given our circumstances.

He took a deep breath, coming to a stop in front of me and kneeling down. His hands trembled as they took mine. "You aren't the Force user. You're a Force sensitive with a small but unique set of talents. It's how you recognized me and how you recognized Reese."

I jerked back, it all making sense. "You! You're the Force user. Then why did C'Baoth come after me and not you?"

I'd never seen him look so stricken before, so sad and frightened all at once. "Because I projected my abilities onto you."

I stared, stared so hard my vision went double and I had to remember to blink. The implications of his statement were too much. "Why? Why would you do that to me? You deliberately put me in harm's way!"

"No, I would never do that. Ari, let me explain, please," his tone grew frantic, his hands holding mine tightly so I couldn't pull away. "I did it because you had already made yourself known. You had already pushed against C'Baoth's power. He was going to come for you and he would have picked out your own abilities if I hadn't confused him with mine. When he walked into that crew pit, I withdrew from you. You're nowhere near as strong as I am. Compared to what I displayed in you, your own abilities are nonexistent. So it looked like you had nothing. Confusing C'Baoth like that was the only way I could protect you."

I buried my face in my hands, screaming wordlessly into my palms to muffle the sound. "Do you know what this has done to me, what kind of nightmares I've had ever since? I still have to have a meeting with the freaking Grand Admiral over all this! What am I going to tell him? How am I going to explain things I don't understand, myself?"

He settled beside me, wrapping his arms around me as I sobbed, fearing anew for our future. Fearing how in the Empire that I was going to successfully lie to my supreme commander. Because I wasn't going to give Tam up, not for my life or anyone else's. Most certainly not to that crazy dark Jedi. I felt his tears falling into my hair, felt his body tremble under the weight of his own sorrow.

"There wasn't anything else I could do," he whispered. "I'm so sorry, Ari. Please understand that there was nothing I could do. I couldn't let him find either of us, so I hid us both the best way I knew how: in plain sight."

He was right. As much as I wanted to scream, to beat him bloody and then lose my mind, I couldn't deny his logic. His perfectly sound, well thought out logic. It didn't excuse his actions in the slightest, and part of me was going to resent him for the rest of my life for what he'd put me through, but I couldn't hate him. Much like I couldn't hate Reese that day in the exercise area. It was fate and destiny pulling us together on this ship, and ripping us apart from the heart outward.

And we each tried to cope in our own miserable ways.

"What do we do?" I whispered.

"I don't know," he whispered back.

"Oh, for the love of all that is good," Pieterson barked loudly, causing us both to jump. "I know exactly what we're going to do. You two are going to stop sobbing like children, for one. You," he pointed harshly at me. "You are going to eat the rest of your dinner so Lieutenant Bully doesn't beat me bloody in the morning. And you," he swung that finger at Tam. "You are going to put that Force-using mind to work and figure out how to get us out this mess that _you_ created."

He pulled out his data pad, slotting the dreaded data card that contained our group research on C'Baoth. "In the meantime, I'll go through this data to see what our next move should be."

Tam and I exchanged a look that was between utter shock and muted hope. A tiny, tremulous smile touched his mouth. "Pieterson, you realize that you just sounded like a proper officer, right?"

The look he returned was beyond pure venom. "Screw you, Tam," he hissed. "Someone has to take control of you two and this bloody mess you've created. We've got to find a way to stop this crazy Jedi Master before he mind rapes us all."

I found my spoon again, and got to work on the rations. Surprised to find that I had an appetite again. Amazing what having a purpose could do to a person. "Why are you so interested in stopping him?" I asked between bites. "I thought it didn't matter to you if you were executed by an officer, or if C'Baoth did something to you."

"I care what happens to my thoughts, Idelas," he countered sternly. "Under the old Empire, I wouldn't have cared if Vader choked me to death like the stories say, or if I was double tapped in the back of my head by my officer for making a mistake. Dead is dead. But what I don't want is to be rewritten or controlled by a Dark Jedi. That's just as bad as being conscripted and made to bend to someone else's will. _That's _where I draw the line."

The steel in his tone gave me renewed hope, and made me seriously regret our altercation on the bridge. "Hey, I'm sorry about earlier when I ordered you back to work," I said, meaning it. "I… I shouldn't have done that."

Resentment still burned in those eyes, but at least it was banked down to a simmer. "Whatever. It's done and over with. Now finish eating so we can get on with our tasks."

The last of my meal went down without protest, followed by the rest of the water. And then the three of us, for the first time as a single unit, got serious about our plans.


	11. Chapter 11 - Trial and Error

A/N: Thanks again for all the reviews! I know I say that each time, but every single one encourages me to write more. So thank you! :D As promised, our favorite Grand Admiral makes his return in this chapter. And a little more of Lieutenant Reese thanks to all the requests. ;)

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

Looking back on things, I should have realized sooner that Tam was the Force user in our little group.

I pondered this idly as I slid across the training room floor for the umpteenth millionth time, my shoulder screaming in tangent with my bruised ribs. Tam had left tiny clues all through our conversations, little tidbits that should have made his talents glaringly obvious. It was more than a little coincidental that he'd been the one to find Lieutenant Hollinger. How was it that a bridge communication specialist had decided to take a stroll through one of the lesser used hangar bays at the exact time Hollinger had chosen to hide there? And finding the others that C'Baoth had mentally raped? It was almost as if he'd known where to search.

Almost as if the Force had been guiding him.

There were other hints. Things like his deep interest in C'Baoth in the first place, and how he'd latched onto the ysalamiri concept of Force suppression with near obsessive ferocity. All of this pointed to Force powers. And all of it was explained away, rationalized by Pieterson and myself in different ways. Too many changes were being lobbed at us like poorly aimed grenades, and it was easier to just assume that Tam was that good with puzzles or that his position as a communications officer lead him to intercept information faster than the rest of us.

These things I made the mistake of considered as the padded staff sliced through the air, spearing me in my less wounded side. Pain lanced through me like wildfire, knocking me back to the practice mats. That proved to be a mistake, too, as my attacker focused all his attention at mercilessly slamming the staff into my shoulders. Swallowed grunts made it past my clenched teeth, the agony in my side reverberating up through my now battered shoulders.

"Get up," said attacker bit out harshly between swings of the staff. "Get up and fight. Stand as you have been taught."

I pushed to my hands and knees. The staff whipped down, somehow slapping at my already tender side before hooking beneath my left leg. I went down again, the breath whooshing from my lungs.

"That wasn't how you were taught to stand. Try again!"

Somewhere off to the side, I felt Tam surging to his feet, outrage filtering through his emotions. He had insisted on coming along during my training sessions with Reese and his band of abusers, though I wasn't exactly sure why. Reese had begrudgingly allowed it. Especially after he realized that it was either let Tam attend or leave him bound and gagged inside a closet. Tam soon learned, however, that Jadrek Reese was not a man to be pushed around. And just because Tam was given the privilege of watching my humiliating beatdowns, it didn't mean he was immune to training, himself. Currently, he was seated at a weight bench, the screaming torment of his own muscles playing a duet with the cries of mine. Reese, himself, loomed over Tam, counting the repetitions.

So when he'd ignored Reese's latest command and surged to his feet, I'd also felt a thrill of alarm as Reese's hand shoved him back down, hard.

"She agreed to this," was all he said, striding over to where I lay prone on the mat gulping down air. "Get up, little one. You know how to do it."

"I don't think she does," my attacker, the erstwhile Number Four of Reese's Merry Men—now known to me as Junior Grade Lieutenant Makko Vyns—said sourly. "We've been at this for two hours and she's yet to touch me once."

"Combat skills come with time," Reese shrugged, staring with calm detachment as Vyns once again sent me sprawling to the mat, this time with a not-too-kind _thwap_ against the side of my face. "She'll figure it out eventually. Keep drilling her until she does. Though watch the facial contact, Mak. Remember, she's not ours and I'd rather avoid the conversation with her commanding officer over visible bruises."

Vyns made a face at that. "A good mark on the cheek is often the best reminder to keep your guard up."

"I agree, and under normal circumstances I would tell you to mark her good after a display like this. However, she's Fleet staff, not Army. Exceptions have to be made."

It took a moment for the world to stop spinning and the ringing to silence itself in my ears before I could comprehend what they were saying. I could sense Tam's emotions like a ball of barbed wire in my head, rolling around with disquiet at what was happening to me. I tried to send calming thoughts to him, trying my best to reach out with what limited range I could manage. We'd been practicing the use of our abilities—or more to the point, Tam was practicing the use of his abilities, I was merely a convenient conduit for his tests—and thus far had managed a few small bits of success.

While I would never be a power in the Force, I was learning that one of my talents was the ability to amplify it in others. Tam was stronger when I was near, and I was likewise able to draw upon his power to a limited extent. It created a sort of psychic bond between us, allowing us to feel each other's emotions and sometimes glimpse each other's thoughts or feelings. Like now, when he was rubbing his side exactly where I had been struck.

And like now, when his eyes widened, watching the blow that was slowly coming for my tortured rib cage.

I twisted away quickly, the blow falling millimeters shy of its intended target, kicking up to my feet rather than climbing on hands and knees. Vyns immediately retaliated, the staff flying upwards, angling towards my shoulder. But I'd seen that movement through Tam's eyes and I was ready for it. I turned to the left, rolling my body along the length of the extended staff, trusting Tam to guide me as I reached out and grabbed Vyns' hands where they gripped the staff. To his credit, he smiled… and then one hand was suddenly around my throat.

"Now what, little one?" Reese asked, standing beside me. "That little twist was well executed. But it has now brought you into arm's reach of your attacker. What do you do next?"

Vyn's hand wasn't choking me, though I could feel the potential for such deadly violence poised in the strength of those fingers.

My hands automatically fluttered to that grip, and Reese pursed his lips, shaking his head. "Wrong."

My punishment was a flex of those cord-like fingers and then pressure as Vyns easily forced me down onto my knees. Reese knelt down beside me. "You have allowed your attacker to successfully use up ninety-percent of your remaining oxygen because you hesitated. The bones in your neck are exhibiting stress fractures by this point, the carotid arteries in your throat pinched. Pressure is building. In a minute you will be dead. What do you do, little one? Show me!"

A thousand possible maneuvers flashed before my eyes. Reese had shown me so many in the past week! How was I to know which was the proper response? The answer, of course, was I couldn't know, not until I tried something at any rate. I settled on the one I thought would save me, and I wrapped one arm around Vyns' wrist, holding it firmly in place. I brought my other hand up, palm outward, and tapped it on Vyn's extended elbow. The hand around my throat vanished, and in the back of my mind, I felt Tam let go of the breath he'd been holding.

Vyns grinned widely, bringing the staff down smartly at his side. "How about that? She can be taught after all. That move, if executed properly, would have smashed my elbow to splinters. It was a good choice."

I rubbed a hand at my throat, a smile beginning to form on my own lips. "It takes a while," I said, climbing to my feet. "I've always been stubborn."

"You are dead for your stubbornness," Reese put in, stealing the smile from both of our lips. "It was the wrong choice."

Both Vyns and I blinked at that. "Come again?"

"Here," Reese grabbed my hand, brought it to his throat to mimic what Vyns had done to me. "See, this is where the choice should have been made. Here is where you hesitated and ultimately lost your life. The correct response is this."

Two fingers. The bastard used two fingers to attack the pressure point on my wrist. Pain blossomed to life, turning my entire arm to liquid flame. I tried to let go, to pull back, but he wasn't having that. The pressure intensified, and I felt my vision go grey and fuzzy around the edges.

"Do you feel what I am doing?" He asked, though I knew it was a rhetorical question. It had to be, as I was having trouble breathing through the pain, nevertheless speaking. "You are not a strong person, little one. It is not a slight against you, merely a statement on your genetic makeup and structure. You will never be strong enough to defeat someone like myself or Vyns through strength. But this is something you can do, something that would bring the strongest man to his knees."

He was right about that. My knees collided with the matt. Every muscle in my body was slowly locking up, turning me into a rigid immovable statue. I sought his eyes with my own, pleading for release, all but begging. He let up on the pressure, but not on his grip. I was grateful. Because I really didn't want to tumble to the matt again and lay there like so much dead meat.

"Do you see the difference, little one?" he asked gently, hauling me to my feet. "You must not ever hesitate. When a man attacks you, he is your enemy. Period. You defend yourself to the best of your ability. Period. Trust in your training more than those around you. There will come a time when you are alone and your training will be the only thing that saves your life. This hesitation in you must stop. Hesitation leads to mistakes, and mistakes lead to death. The sooner you realize this, the sooner you will avoid harm."

The thumb of his free hand traced delicately across my cheek, tracing over the nonexistent wound C'Baoth had felt the need to inflict upon me. I let my eyelids flutter close for a moment, sinking into that gentle touch in the wake of the pain that had rocketed through me. But only for a moment before I stepped back. And speaking of hesitation, there was the slightest bit of it in him as I pulled away, the slightest flex of his fingers that let me know he wanted me to stay a moment longer.

There were more reasons not linger than there were self defense moves he'd taught me. The least of which was the fact that I wanted to.

"Why?" I found myself asking. "Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?"

He took a step closer, the attraction in the air compressing, his storm grey eyes tinted with just the tiniest amount of blue. "Why do you think?"

Another loaded question. And another one that I wasn't going to answer right here and now in front of everyone.

"I don't know."

His slight smile let me know he knew I was lying. Lying to him big time. "I think you do. But I will indulge your game, little one, and say that it's because I don't want to lose my life protecting yours."

I blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

The smile changed somehow, losing its sexual charge and becoming mocking in an instant. "I'm a stormtrooper. While I am not deployed planet-side, it's my duty to protect you fleet children. The more you learn how to protect yourself, the less I have to worry about you when real danger strikes. So learn your lessons well."

I rolled my eyes a bit at that. With the likes of Grand Admiral Thrawn, Captain Pellaeon, the Admiral's bodyguard and several stormtroopers on duty on the bridge, I didn't think danger was a possibility in my work zone. "I'd like to think the bridge was the most protected place from danger on this ship."

He pointedly glanced at my face, at the place where C'Baoth's nails had scored my cheek. "I'd like to believe you are absolutely wrong."

* * *

Reese's parting shot haunted me through the rest of the day. I thought about his words as the lift moved us closer to the bridge, reliving the terrifying moments as C'Baoth's nails cut jagged tears into my flesh, the Admiral pulling me viciously away. Caught between those two titans of power, I had to wonder if any of Reese's training would have done any good in that situation. Was I supposed to have shrugged off my Admiral's hands, attacking C'Baoth with all my might? What would have been C'Baoth's recourse if I had known that particular pressure point maneuver Reese had used on me?

A chill swept through me at those thoughts, imagining C'Baoth's rage and the Force powers he had at his command. No, there was nothing I could have done differently in that situation that wouldn't have resulted in someone's death. I'd spun the scenario around in my head night after night, analyzing it, picking it apart until I was sick to death. The only answer to that equation was to trust my training—just not the combat training that Reese had meant. I had had to trust my officer and my chain of command, and I think that was the only reason I was still pushing air past my teeth.

"You're nervous," Pieterson said, making the same adjustments to his uniform that we all were. "Stop it. You're precious Reese will be fine."

I tossed him a rather unfriendly look. "He's not 'my' Reese, Pieterson. And I have a right to be worried, regardless. He and his team are part of the Nkllon assault force. There's a very real chance he could die today. And he is our friend, in a roundabout way."

"Maybe your friend," he returned. "The man won't say two words to me. "

"He's stopped glaring at you," Tam put in helpfully. "Ever since we started working together, you have to admit that he's toned down the level of his animosity for you. He's no longer treating you like an invading force or something."

"There is that," Pieterson admitted reluctantly. "Speaking of invading forces, have you two figured out how to link together yet?"

I glanced behind Pieterson, meeting Tam's gaze for a moment. "Not really," Tam admitted. "We're close. There are times when we can feel each other's emotions and almost hear each other's thoughts. But it's only in times of intense emotions, or intense pain."

I winced at that, watching as Tam gingerly rubbed his wrist in the same location wherein Reese had handled me earlier in the morning.

Pieterson shook his head. "Close isn't doing. You two need to be in constant contact if we're going to undo what _he's_ doing. We already know from our last failure that Tam isn't strong enough to remove the programming _he's_ putting into people's heads. Maybe linked together, you two might have a shot."

Tam winced and I followed suit, sorrow rising up in us in unison and with it the link between us. The image of Ensign Ratib Orn took center stage in our shared memory. The man's death had been hideous, choking on his own tongue and clawing at his own eyes when Tam had touched that oily black film that coated over Orn's sanity. C'Baoth's touch was like that, grease that stained the mind and ruined thought. Trying to clear it had uncovered certain programmed instructions in Orn's mind, instructions that lead him to die in that ghastly way rather than to be free of C'Baoth's control. It was like the man's own body refused to reject what the sane mind had uncovered.

The result was a death that had left Tam and I throwing up all over the place from the backlash of that feeling. Pieterson hadn't fared much better. Though he hadn't been in Orn's mind like we had been, the visual was traumatizing enough.

And whatever instructions, whatever secrets Orn had been carrying for C'Baoth, had died with him. We'd failed, horribly. And while Tam and I hesitated to try it again, the events had only firmed Pieterson's resolve to save the crew from such fates. Unfortunately that resolve had also turned his mind further towards hatred for the Empire in general and fueled a brand new hatred for Grand Admiral Thrawn in particular. I wasn't quite sure what to do with that yet. One problem at a time, right?

"We'll try again when we have it right," Tam put in, shattering the brittle silence.

"You'll try again when we have the time, regardless," Pieterson said flatly. "Every day we delay is another day that monster destroys more minds. We have to stop him, since no one else seems to care to. And I'm convinced most of the people under his control would rather die than live like this. So we try again tonight."

The lift doors opened before I could argue, spilling us onto the bridge. Our conversation died, the link between myself and Tam growing stronger as a result. Nerves, I told myself. Though the _Chimaera_ was not participating directly in the assault on the Athega system, we were nevertheless stationed as reserves just in case. And while this wasn't my first battle, I knew now that I would experience this particular hushed terror every time I went into battle. Ensign Colclazure had affirmed that for me in one of our many lessons.

It was how we knew we were still alive, he'd confessed. It was how we knew we were still human, and it was what kept us in touch with the fact that other lives counted on us to do our duties flawlessly. I should only worry the day I went into battle and _didn't_ feel it. I took those words to heart as I followed Pieterson towards our duty station.

"Crewman Aria Idelas," a cold voice slithered up my spine before I could descend into the starboard crew pit. "What a pleasure to see you again. I understand that you have healed nicely."

He was standing behind me, I realized, my breath catching in my throat. Master Joruus C'Baoth was standing right behind me. I closed my eyes, drawing deeply on my connection to Tam, and forced myself to calmness. At least outward calmness. That was about as good as it was going to get. Mentally I snapped together that painting, the one I had created when I'd first pushed C'Baoth out of my mind. I hid there, and I hid Tam's link there with me.

A sardonic smile twisted his lips as I turned to face him, my posture military straight. "Thank you, Master C'Baoth," I said formally. I wasn't about to say it was pleasure to see him, too. I wasn't that good a liar. "I have fully recovered."

"Good," he drew out that one word until it felt dirty somehow. "I would be very distraught if you had come to permanent harm at the hands of your Admiral. Unfortunate that he pulled you away like he did, cutting your face like that. You would never suffer such cruel acts under my care, Aria Idelas."

His voice was slipping into a near hypnotic tone, a tone I would have been comforted into like a lullaby if not for the boundaries of my painting. Still, the edges of my mental canvas started to smolder under that inflection, curling slightly as if the words carried a destructive heat all their own. I called upon the seas of my homeworld, pushing waves of glittering salty water at those curling edges, combating his heat as best as I could. C'Baoth's smile froze for an instant and I felt him withdraw slightly, his mind taking on a slippery cleverness, probing at the singed edges of my protection.

A drop of sweat started to ease down my spine, skin crawling with the feeling of his attack. _Help_, I pleaded. _Stars, someone help me…_

"And I am certain the crewman appreciates your reassurance over her safety," Grand Admiral Thrawn cut in smoothly, walking up to join us. A stormtrooper stood a step behind him, the ysalamiri draped across his shoulders on its frame. I was never so happy to see him in my life. "Are you ready to proceed, Master C'Baoth?"

A look somewhere between outrage and glee filled C'Baoth's eyes as he turned on the Grand Admiral. "I suppose that I am," he replied, flinging a glance in my direction and looking torn, like a phsycotic child uncertain which animal he wanted to torture to death first. Apparently whatever it was the Admiral was going after in the Athega system was as appealing as burning me out of my own mind. Scary, that. "I suppose that I am."

Thrawn didn't miss that glance. "Very well. Let us proceed."

That sounded like a dismissal to me and I took a step backward as was proper, preparing for a military turn to descend to my station.

"Crewman Idelas," my Admiral said, freezing my blood in my veins. "I would like for you to join me in the command station for this mission, if you would be so kind."

It was phrased as a polite request, the iron in his tone making it anything but. "It would be my honor, Admiral," I replied with the formal response.

That brought a tight smile to his lips, and he glanced at me as if I had suddenly become interesting to him. "Your officer has taught you well, crewman. Your knowledge of proper etiquette is impressive."

"Thank you, sir," I half turned, grateful that Pieterson, too, had stopped when Master C'Baoth approached us. "Relay my change in orders to Ensign Colclazure, crewman."

Pieterson nodded once, a flash of resentment in his eyes that I hoped was at this whole situation. He still did not like taking orders from me. Maybe that was why I was okay with him leading in private. There was precious little choice but to give that order, seeing as the Admiral was staring right at us.

"Yes, sir," Pieterson replied crisply, turning and heading down the crew pit.

I turned back to the Admiral and the looming Jedi Master. The former nodded to me, heading to the command section of the bridge. The latter stared at me with that calculating madness, thoughts swishing through his eyes that made me grateful for the stormtrooper and the ysalamiri he carried. I didn't want to know what those looks meant, nevertheless wanted them aimed at me. Finally, the psycho smiled, beaming like a grandfather at his favorite grandchild.

That was scarier than the rage.

"Yes, I am pleased that you have the time to join us, Aria Idelas," he said, as if the idea were all his, following the Grand Admiral. "I think you will find the demonstration of my power to your liking. You will no doubt have questions when we are finished today. I will make myself available to you afterwards. A mind like yours, possessed of your talents, needs to be guided properly. I will see to it that such things are done."

"The crewman will attend you when her duties permit," Admiral Thrawn joined in, taking his seat. He held up a hand in my direction, beckoning me to his side. "Keep in mind, Master C'Baoth, I cannot deliver your Jedi to you if you take my crewmembers from me. They are necessary to the function of this ship."

C'Baoth snorted, taking his own seat. One some distance away from the Admiral, I noted. "You can train some other lesser creature to perform her duties. While I do not know the extent of her talents, I know that she has them. Those talents will not be wasted on foolish things like tractor beam drills."

That tight smile returned to the Admiral's mouth. "I am not of the mind to waste any talent I find in my fleet, Master C'Baoth. Rest assured, the crewman's abilities will be put to proper use. Now, is my task force in place?"

C'Baoth looked like he was going to argue the point, and then thought better of it. He closed his eyes, settling back in his seat. And I sent out a silent prayer that Reese survived, that C'Baoth didn't, and that somehow we were all going to make it through alive.


	12. Chapter 12 - Trial and Error Part 2

A/N: Thanks again for all the reviews and favorites of the story! Each review fuels my desire to write more. :D This chapter is also for the Thrawn fans out there. Let me know if I start to go too far off the mark with him?

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

"Your task force is ready, Grand Admiral Thrawn," C'Baoth uttered, his voice strained and his face taunt with effort. "They await my order to move on Nkllon."

"Then give the order."

I tried not to think about what that "effort" C'Baoth was using was for, but I already knew the answer. He was controlling the crews of the_ Judicator_ and the _Chimaera_, and likely the stormtrooper teams deployed planet-side, like he had tried to control me during the battle of Bpfassh. I had no idea why he was doing this, or why the Admiral would even stand for this sort of thing in the first place. If those poor people had experienced anything near what I had, the uncontrollable buzzing and the gibbering spine-crawling prickles of a madman through their thoughts, I would suspect they would be screaming. But as my eyes scanned the bridge, I saw no one flailing in horror, no one trying to scratch out their eyes in an attempt to make it all go away.

I observed nothing out of the ordinary… other than Tam standing up at his station and staring hard at me.

What in the Empire was he doing? The three of us had discussed at length how dangerous it could be if the rest of the crew realized we were working together. Working together for purposes other than those assigned by our officers, I meant. As far as the rest of the _Chimaera_ was aware, Pieterson had managed to anger Tam and I that day on the track, and we hadn't been seen together unofficially since. It was better that way, just in case Master C'Baoth decided to dig through the minds of his victims. No one could link the three of us, and that meant if one of us was caught or, stars forbid, killed, the other two could carry on.

But Tam obviously had something important to tell me. The way his eyes slanted to the right let me know he wanted me to step outside the ysalamiri bubble. I frowned, pointedly not looking over at my Admiral or my Captain. Thrawn himself had stationed me beside him, standing at his right shoulder so close that my arm nearly brushed the ysalamiri framework bolted onto his command chair. How was I supposed to step away enough to be outside of that Force dampening influence and not look like I was disobeying an order?

"You are blocking him, even now, aren't you?"

I jumped in surprise at Thrawn's softly spoken question, face warming in embarrassment. There I stood next to one of the most brilliant tactical minds the Empire had ever known, and I had been caught not paying attention to what he was doing. Captains in the fleet would have given their right arms to be standing where I was standing, and I was wasting that experience. He gazed up at me, unblinking, expecting an answer. Expecting the truth. And I knew in my heart even without my meager Force abilities that lying to him right then and there would be the death of me.

"Y-yes, sir," I whispered.

"Interesting," he murmured, those glowing eyes considering. Or was that calculated interest? Either was terrifying enough. "You can do this even within the shield of the ysalamiri?"

I didn't want to answer that. Truth was, I didn't know if it worked within the ysalamiri fields. I was just too terrified of C'Baoth to stop blocking for any reason. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

An eyebrow arched. "Granted."

I squared my shoulders and prepared myself to walk that fine line between just enough truth and not the whole story. He knew that I was force talented, obviously. But the real question was if he knew about Tam as well. That I had to keep hidden at all costs.

"I don't trust what I don't understand," I said as truthfully as I could. "And I don't understand these creatures or what they do. Until I do, I'll continue to protect myself as I deem necessary."

He reached back over his shoulder, stroking the neck of the ysalamiri on its frame against his chair. And I had to wonder, was he doing that as a slight against me? A reminder that I couldn't touch the Force in his presence? Or was it a comforting motion on his part, a reminder to himself that Force users were helpless under their power?

Or was I over thinking the whole thing? Stars, what I wouldn't give to have Tam in my thoughts at that moment, his critical mind picking through this test. Because, at its heart, that's exactly what this conversation was—a test. But for what reason? And what was the consequence if I failed?

_Training_, I told myself vehemently. _Hold onto your training_. _Panic is the enemy. Panic kills faster than a blaster bolt._

"I would think the results of what they do are quite obvious," Thrawn was saying, gaze steady on my face.

"The results are," I agreed as calmly as I could. "But when it comes to the safety and sanctity of my mind, I don't want to take anything for granted."

His lips curled in a slight smile of approval. "On that point, we both agree. Which brings me to my next question. Tell me, can you extend your ability to others?"

I couldn't stop my slight twitch of astonishment at that. What little calm I'd collected shattered, eyes widening slightly and twisting towards. Thus far the psychotic Jedi Master currently had his eyes closed, that look of strain on his features growing worse as the minutes ticked by. My gaze flicked back to my Admiral. We were really going to have this conversation right there in front of the crazy guy?

Apparently my wild look wasn't lost on anyone around us. Captain Pellaeon was abruptly standing behind me, well within the field of Thrawn's ysalamiri, a pensive look on his noble features. He, too, apparently did not like the idea of discussing such things right in front of C'Baoth. Just as much as he disliked the idea of a crewman hanging out in his command area.

For a moment there I swore it was a tossup as to which situation upset him the most. Neither was good for me.

Admiral Thrawn let his eyes follow to where I stared and then coolly return to mine. "I assure you," he continued softly, addressing both the Captain and myself. "Master C'Baoth cannot hear us at this point in time. He is busy doing what he enjoys most: controlling people. At any rate, it matters little if he does hear us. I have no intention of handing you over to him, Crewman Idelas."

The unspoken "at the moment" hovered in the air between us, somehow doing nothing to slow the racing of my heart. Realistically, what was I supposed to do if he chose to give me to the madman anyway? Nothing, that was what. If he gave me to C'Baoth, it would be under his order, something I could not refuse. Panic grew like a spiky thorn bush around my heart, one I tried to uproot as fast as it appeared_. Panic is the enemy. Panic kills faster than blasterbolt ._ Colclazure and Reese had said that to me over and over again. I had to trust my training and my command staff. If the Admiral said he could protect me, then that was what I had to believe. There was no other choice.

I made that hope my shield, infused it into the colors of my painting. "T-thank you, sir."

He nodded slightly. "Now, answer the question. Can you extend your ability to block our esteemed Jedi Master to others?"

It was my turn to close my eyes. It was an interesting question. I hadn't really tried to do that before simply because the idea of forcing my abilities on someone else never occurred to me. Aside from the painting trick, my abilities never worked half the time. Besides, it was too close to what C'Baoth was doing right now, and I shuddered at the notion that I would put anyone through the hell of being mind raped. But this wasn't against his will, was it?

And that's when the scariest question to date popped into my head: Was the Admiral asking me to use my fledgling abilities on _him_?

I wanted to panic at the notion. But the hours of drilling that Colclazure had put me through had become like a song in the back of my mind. That discipline would not let me go into full blown panic mode, not for anything in the world. I tried to still my thoughts as Tam had showed me, as Reese had shown me in our combat training, narrowing my focus until only the moment and my painting remained.

And then I began to push that gathered moment outward in tiny increments, expanding until it encompassed more than just myself. I visualized the Admiral in my mind's eye; saw the pure glistening white of his uniform, the cool blue of his skin. I felt the red fire of his eyes, and the silvery metal of his command chair. These I pulled into my painting, let the canvas spread out until they were part of it.

But something was wrong. I couldn't close the loop as it were, couldn't recreate my Admiral in all his perfections and imperfections. That indefinable quality that separated a masterwork from a flat lifeless waste of color was missing. I couldn't put my finger on it, and no matter what I tried, I couldn't bring the Admiral to life in that three dimensional quality that was flawless. I strained to capture him, pushing against the boundaries of my canvas until I thought it was rip in two. But it was too no avail. I couldn't do it. Something was missing.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, opening my eyes. Aware for the first time that I was breathing hard and sitting in a chair next to him, Captain Pellaeon's hand on my shoulder. "I… something is wrong. I can't quite bring you into the painting. It's… off."

I expected anger, or at the least disappointment followed by a dismissal. I wasn't expecting the curiosity in those endless scarlet orbs, the somewhat – dare I say pleased? – expression on his regal features.

"Very interesting, indeed," he said, fingers steeped before him. "I suspect your difficulties are due to the ysalamiri's effect. It appears Master C'Baoth was correct and you are a Force user after all."

And then I realized what he'd done, what my _true_ test was all about. He hadn't been certain about me at all, or my abilities. He'd merely let me assume that he was, and let me open that door on my own. Let the discipline that Colclazure had beat into me do the rest. Beyond the test to see if I was Force talented, it had also been a test of my willingness to follow his orders to the letter. He'd known somehow that I would fail because of the Force dead zone. He'd ordered me to try anyway just to see if I would try.

If the look on his face was any indication, I'd passed both tests with flying colors. Deep inside, I felt like I lost more than I'd gained.

I closed my eyes, leaning back into the chair and trying not to be sick. I kept forgetting that Thrawn did nothing without careful consideration, including inviting a lowly crewman to conversation in the command station. One of these days, that was going to get me killed. If Tam didn't kill me first.

Thrawn chuckled softly. "Relax, Crewman Idelas. I said before that I had no intention of giving you or your talents to our esteemed Jedi Master. I have not changed my mind."

I opened my eyes, too tired and sick and scared to care about the boldness of meeting that gaze directly. Or about what I was about to say. "But you didn't know for certain that I had those talents, did you?"

A ghost of a smile drifted across his face. "Very good, Crewman. No, I didn't."

"But now that you do?"

"All in good time," he answered cryptically; those eyes glittering with possibilities that would have made me hit the floor if I wasn't already seated. "It appears we have more to discuss than I originally thought."

He just _had_ to remind me about that conversation, didn't he? I felt a new wave of dizziness sweep across me, one I bit back by fear alone. I wasn't going to pass out. I wasn't, I wasn't, I wasn't…

A glass of water was pushed into my hand. "Drink," Captain Pellaeon ordered. "Recover your dignity, crewman, and remember yourself. Your part to play in this mission has yet to reach its conclusion."

I did as I was ordered.

* * *

It felt like eternity that I sat there, sipping water with trembling hands and generally trying to stay out of the way. Business as usual had resumed in the command station, Admiral Thrawn and Captain Pellaeon discussing the specifics of the ongoing raid at Nkllon, occasionally asking C'Baoth for status updates. I was shocked to learn that they had removed all the external sensors and cameras and whatnot from the hull of the Star Destroyer _Judicator_, essentially sending it into combat blind and deaf. But apparently the strength of Nkllon's suns and the placement of the planet itself was such that sending in a ship of any kind would have peeled its hull like an overripe melon. Removing the delicate sensor equipment was the only way to go.

Of course they weren't discussing this for my benefit. There was apparently a bit of an argument between the two of them over this particular tactic, and as reports came in from C'Baoth over the damage said Star Destroyer was taking, that argument came to life in bits and pieces. Muted bits and pieces, but still alive nonetheless.

I kept my mouth shut, tried not to breathe too much, and prayed hard that they would simply forget I was there.

I listened to what they said, though, and in the dull moments of silence my mind drifted to Reese, my chest tightening with fear. To be out there under that intense radiation, to have to rely on a madman's thoughts in your brain as your only source of communication… I didn't know how he did it. I certainly would have run screaming rather than go on that kind of mission. But there was a part of me that knew Reese had done nothing of the sort. He'd acknowledged his duty with that stoic acceptance that I both loved and hated about him.

A soft groan pulled me out of my reverie, and I was alarmed to see that it had come from C'Baoth. The look of strain on his features had increased triple fold, the way almost every vein popped against his thin flesh had me sitting up straight again. "M—"

A warning look from Admiral Thrawn silenced my concern almost before it left my lips. I closed my mouth again, glancing down at my empty water glass.

"You are recovered, I see," he said into the relative quiet, ignoring the sounds of pain coming from behind him.

I nodded before I realized what I was doing, and snapped my head up, sitting straight in proper military style. "Yes, sir," I said softly. "Apologies, Admiral. My questioning of before and my actions now are inappropriate."

"Forgiven," he said, the barest hint of amusement in his tone. "I have a task for you, crewman Idelas. I want you to step outside the ysalamiri zone, and try again."

Again I couldn't help but flick my gaze at C'Baoth. It was the worst thing I could have done.

I saw my Admiral's expression darken, bringing my attention rapidly back to him. "I grow tired of saying this, crewman, so it will be the last time," he said softly, the barest hint of a threat brewing in that deceptively civilized tone. "I will handle Master C'Baoth. You need not concern yourself with him until I say otherwise. Is this understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, now do as you are ordered."

I rose to my feet, walking with only the slightest tremble out onto the command walkway until that numb coldness brought on by the Force void rapidly vanished. Just as rapidly I felt Tam's presence wash across my thoughts, a warm manifestation of friendship that felt so good after the chilling fear of the past hour.

_Are you okay?_ Tam sent.

_No. But I'm managing._

_What happened?_

_You don't want to know. Just… Hell, Cal. He knows, okay? At least about me, he knows. And by 'he' I mean the Admiral. He's asking me to try something._

The silence from Tam's end was louder than any scream. _… Are you serious? Now? In front of C'Baoth?_

I cringed, the threat in Thrawn's tone and his warnings to let him handle C'Baoth all too painfully clear in my mind. So much so that I was convinced that Tam heard it through my memory. I felt him swallow hard, felt the tiny tremor of terror that started in his right little finger and spread through him as the impact of our Admiral's words sank in. _Kriff! What are you going to do?_

_What else can I do? I'm going to do as he requests._

_Ari, this is dangerous!_

_So's denying him! _I shot back viciously. _I'm not a good liar, Cal. I can't look him in the face and tell him that I failed when I hadn't even tried. He'll know. I swear he's damn near prescient about that! Are you certain he's not a Force User, too?_

I felt more than saw Tam shake his head. _I don't know, to be honest. He's always in those dead zones created by the ysalamiri. I've never had a chance to sense him before he brought those things aboard._

_Well as long as C'Baoth's on board, we aren't going to get a chance. He'll never leave those zones, and I don't blame him. He uses them like I use my painting. Now, hold on. I've got to try and bring someone into my painting._

I'd been standing on the bridge with my eyes closed for the past minute. Even with closed eyes, I could feel the Admiral's stare on my form, watching and studying and waiting. I took a deep breath, casting about the bridge as far as my limited abilities could reach. It wasn't far, I hated to admit. I couldn't get more than about three feet in any direction, and that left Tam far outside of my range for this trick.

In fact, the only person in rage—outside of the ysalamiri bubbles—was Captain Pellaeon. My heart sank even as my senses reached out to him. I had to be so careful, so delicate in this operation. I didn't want him to know that I was doing it, not without his permission. It felt too much like what C'Baoth was doing to the crew.

So slowly, with utter meticulous care as if I was trying to cradle a bubble, I repeated what I'd tried with the Admiral. I pulled him by shade and nuance into my painting, drinking in the solid outline of him first and then the colors of his skin, the texture of his hair, the way the light glinted off his spotlessly shined boots. I imprinted the sound of his voice and the hard flash in his eyes, the stolid commanding air when he gave orders. All of this I brought into my painting with me, reducing him to colors and variations of light.

I saw my Captain stiffen when I had his composition just right, when I had distilled the essence of the man into a masterpiece of paint and shadow and line. He was magnificent in my mind's eye, a shimmering thing of golden duty and silver grey determination stronger than any steel. And within that swirled hints of metallic red, showing his love for the Empire and his ship and his crew.

Oh, Pieterson had been so wrong about us conscripts! I could see it in the way Captain Pellaeon's eyes drifted around the bridge, his gaze touching here and there on this officer or that crewman. Fierce pride was like fiery orange wings against his back, held tall and strong. We were his crew. We all had equal opportunity to prove ourselves under his watch, and when we excelled at our duties – conscript or enlistee alike – we earned further trust and acceptance in his eyes.

But there was sadness there, too, swirling like bitter brown and flecking those magnificent wings with spider webs of decay. He feared he was the last of a dying breed, one of the final Captains that held to the old glory of the Empire. It wasn't love or devotion to the Emperor that made him so loyal to it, but to an ideal and a way of life. Order from chaos, a hope of protecting the galaxy from itself and all other threats to its sovereignty.

This was the Empire in his eyes. Not some fast-track to glory or a way to indulge in mindless destruction. It was a dream of structure and peace.

It was the first time I had seen the Empire through the eyes of one who had loved it. Saw it as a mountain protectorate, sheltering all its systems from external threat. But I also saw what was left of it as he saw it, a shattered and broken mountain weeping tears of stone while rebels danced across its rubble and tore down its remaining foundations. Destroying his way of life, a way that he loved as dearly as I loved the oceans of my homeworld, scattering brown ashes of loss across his wings and his soul.

He feared, my beloved Captain. Even in the midst of Grand Admiral Thrawn's plans for redemption, he still feared that the Empire would fall and chaos and stupidity would once again rule the galaxy.

His eyes finally finished their sweeping of the bridge, finding mine. His opened wide, and I took an involuntary step back. For the first time, I saw myself in my own painting, saw myself through his eyes. While Captain Pellaeon stood like a mighty phoenix of red and gold fire, I was a siren of swirling waters. My skin clear glass containing sea green currents, my gown undulating whitish sea foam. White glittering waves were my hair, the ends shining like diamonds in the sunlight.

"Fire cannot be held in the palm," I whispered. "Water cannot be squeezed in a fist. That's why he can't touch us right now."

"A fascinating comparison," Admiral Thrawn said mellifluously, his voice sounding somewhat distant and muffled to my ears, sliding around the painting like waves breaking against the shore. His glowing eyes glanced in Captain Pellaeon's direction, took in the look of astonishment and growing anger on his face. "I take it that you have succeeded."

I turned slowly to face him, feeling oddly calm. Paint held no emotion, no feelings of trepidation or dread. It only inspired feelings in others when it was applied with a purpose. My painting was meant to inspire calm, to protect. I couldn't feel the fear that I knew should be there, just like I had not felt the buzzing horror of C'Baoth's attack during the battle of Bpfassh. I understood that now. There was nothing but… calm.

"Yes, Admiral," I heard myself say. "Though I believe I have now angered my captain in selecting him for this test."

He regarded me a long moment, taking in my distant voice, the way I stood painfully at attention yet seemingly without the painful part. I was at complete ease in the stance that once gave me nightmares to think about. But such was the gift of my painting. There was no pain in what I had created in my mind, and thusly no pain in my body.

"I believe you have, indeed," he replied at last. "Why did you choose your Captain?"

"My range is limited," I said without hesitation. "He was the only one I could reach at the time."

"Is that the only reason?"

Embarrassment skittered across the frame of the painting, attempting to splash colors of discomfiture across the canvas. It nearly succeeded before I retreated deeper into the portrait of my home. "No, sir. I… fear for you and my Captain."

"Fear for us?" he asked, taking a step closer, eyes boring into me. "Why? What do you see right now?"

It was a damn good question, one that I could not supply with a logical answer. It was just there, this driving pounding fear that they were in danger. The people I valued most were about to be in a position that I could not save them from, and it was killing me. It was all consuming, motherly, and terrified me down to my core.

He was at the very edge of the ysalamiri's influence. Tiny arcs of blue-white lightning bounced between him and my painting, my trepidation trying to draw him in through the Force dead zone. He was so close I could literally reach out and touch him. And I needed—_needed!_—to keep him from C'Baoth's influence as much as I could. Anything to keep him from the fate of Ensign Orn.

I took a step back, fighting for control, the painting expanding and contracting, becoming a misshapen thing in my mind. I lost the connection to Tam, to Captain Pellaeon, and that only served to enflame my terror. I wanted to see what Thrawn's mind looked like across the canvas with a passion that was alarming. But more than that, I wanted to keep them safe, I realized, my hand sliding down to my stomach. That was all that mattered. They had to be safe. My children, my unborn twins…

_Unborn twins?_

And suddenly there was someone else in the painting with me, a woman with long hair and sad eyes. She looked like wind made flesh, ethereal shades of white upon white layering until it was sometimes hard to tell where one ghostly tinge ended and another began. Within her belly nestled two tiny baby birds, little more that wisps of life. They fluttered featherless wings in frantic unison, troubled even with their mother's hand trying to soothe them. And all around the woman and her unborn babies, vicious black hawks made of metal circled, talons made of solid turbolazer fire arcing towards her at every turn. Trying to take her alive… trying to steal her children.

Those ephemeral eyes met mine. _Help me._

I wrenched my eyes from the woman, revulsion threatening my tenuous hold on the painting. Twins, my Admiral had promised to give to C'Baoth, a "bounty of talents." His words, not mine. Could these unborn innocent children be the payment in which secured C'Baoth's service? I didn't want to know. Oh, stars, I didn't want to know that! I wanted so hard to go back to believing my commanding officers were honorable, that they wouldn't trade unborn children for tactical advantages. In my horror, Reese's words rose up to haunt me.

_The Admiral found many things on Wayland, and like the Admiral, himself, all those things are deadly dangerous… and your curiosity may lead you into one of those things._

I looked back up at Admiral Thrawn through the fragmenting framework of my painting, and his eyes widened slightly before narrowing as something clicked in his mind. He gently reached forward and took my hand—the hand pressed to my abdomen—and guided me the two steps necessary to bring me back into the ysalamiri zone. The painting vanished like a popped bubble, taking with it the strange woman. I was empty again, cold and shaking as Admiral Thrawn guided me back to my seat.

This time I noticed the seat was much closer to his own, and cold emptiness gave way to new trembles of fear. No amount of discipline or water was going to salvage my dignity this time.

"So Organa Solo is on Nkllon," Thrawn murmured, naming the woman I had seen in my painting, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the arm of his chair. "Very good, crewman Idelas, that was a very good showing of skill and talent. Thank you."

I pressed my palms over my eyes, trying hard to regain my composure and failing. Stars, what had I discovered in my ignorance, and how was I supposed to help Organa Solo when I couldn't even help myself?


	13. Chapter 13 - Comfort

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews, private messages, and favorites for this story! I say it every time, but it's true: those things help inspire me to write this story. So thank you! :D I hope this chapter satisfies the Reese requests and some of the Pellaeon requests in part.

WARNING: MATURE CONTENT AHEAD. Not enough to earn an M rating, I hope. But you have been warned. Please proceed with caution. ::fans self!::

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

I couldn't find Reese or any of his men after shift change.

After all I had learned on the bridge, after losing control of the painting like I had, I was in serious need of a workout. Stress had wound my shoulders into one big knot, my mind fragmented and unfocused due to that strange woman appearing in my painting. No, not a strange woman, I corrected myself. Admiral Thrawn had named her as Organa Solo. The famed rebel leader and former Alderaanian Princess had somehow forced herself into my head.

Even Tam was at a loss as to how that had happened. Neither one of us has called to her, and unless she was on the top ten decks of this ship, which was absolutely impossible, she was completely out of our combined range. Which meant she had to be incredibly powerful to reach us. But if she was really that powerful, then how had she escaped Master C'Baoth's notice for so long? He'd detected me, and I wasn't even a candle compared to the bonfire that would have been needed to do what she did.

Maybe C'Baoth noticed me so keenly because he was in my head when I'd first tried to push him out? It was a question I would have to answer another time. Right now I didn't want to think about that crazy man, nor the fact that he and Admiral Thrawn had nearly gone into a violent discussion when the Admiral had dismissed me back to my station. C'Baoth had wanted me to stay, to ask questions of the power I'd obviously observed during the Nkllon raid. More than that, he'd wanted me to bask in his glory, falling at his feet in abject worship.

That wasn't going to happen for many reasons, the least of which was the fact that I knew I'd be dead before I ever got near C'Baoth's feet. Admiral Thrawn would have killed me, or would have ordered his bodyguard to do it. Of that, I had little doubt. I had no idea what part I had yet to play in Thrawn's plans, but I knew full well it wasn't at C'Baoth's side—it was at his.

The dreams I had every time I closed my eyes said as much, if I was to believe them prophetic. I was bound to him, as was Reese and Tam. A smidge of guilt wormed its way into my heart. I had yet to tell Tam and Pieterson about the dreams, though mostly because Pieterson was not in them. An uncomfortable feeling rose in me at that, wondering what it meant. Certainly if Tam and I were to rise in rank because of the work we were doing, for why else would someone in a position such as Grand Admiral bother binding us to him, wouldn't it stand to reason that Pieterson would rise with us?

And speaking of Pieterson, telling him about the painting incident after our shift had ended had been a bad idea. He'd practically glowed with joy. Not over Tam and I successfully holding our link for more than a minute, and not over my ability to pull someone else into my gift to block C'Baoth. No, he'd been thrilled that there was another strong force user that opposed the Empire. You would have thought we'd just informed him that he could go home and forget about Imperial service right that minute.

Tam and I had been speechless, shocked at the treason spewing from his lips. Horrified that somehow someone would hear what he was saying and report us as traitors. Pieterson must have forgotten that while he served because he was physically thrown onto the ship during his conscription, Tam and I served because we were informed that our families would suffer if we didn't.

There was no way either of us could be thrilled that the rebellion had a super powerful force user, not if it meant that this war would drag out and our slim chances of ever seeing our families again were cut in half.

And dammit, I still couldn't find Reese or his band of merry bloody men.

Their abrupt absence bothered me to no end. It was odd, considering that one of them always seemed to be lurking around the workout facilities or in the mess hall. Vyns was usually draped around some attractive woman, using that holonet-ready-smile and devastating good looks to charm himself into a bedmate for the night. Colo Kalkins, Reese's second in command, had a weakness for good Correllian whiskey and a big Sabbac pot. He could normally be found in the nearest game, losing as much as he won.

There were always little Sabbac games popping up on the ship. It was absolutely against regulations, of course, just as it was absolutely likely to find even the junior officer staff—and one of the senior officers from time to time—joining in. It was the best worst kept secret on the ship. Command staff and security detail alike turned a blind eye on the games, so long as it didn't get out of hand. Because of that, one of the unwritten rules when serving aboard the _Chimaera_ was "honor one's debts." This basically meant if you lost at one of the Sabbac games, you lost. There was no arbitration or discussion. Throwing a punch or anything else that couldn't be easily contained, thusly bringing security into the matter, could have you receiving nightly beatings for the rest of your tour. The same went for cheaters.

You didn't mess with the Sabbac games. You paid what you owed, and you did it with a gentleman's grace. Or else.

I poked my head into a few, nodded my hellos to the scant people I recognized. Mostly stormtroopers now thanks to Reese's inception into my life. Oddly enough, they were the most open of the people serving on this ship, and I found more allies there than I would have thought. Maybe that was because I was Fleet and they were Army. I wasn't competition for promotions. It was something I'd have to ask Vyns about later.

If I could find the bloody man. The same went for Kann Torre and Dabu Chib, the last two to round out Reese's inner circle of allies.

There was one last place I could check before giving up for the night. Sometimes Reese would linger in a readyroom near the hangar bays, going over the previous mission and preparing a lecture for his men on how they could improve, or what they did extremely well. He was a good leader, I mused, stepping onto the turbolift. If I had what it took to be a stormtrooper, I would have followed him into combat any day of the week. He reminded me a lot of Admiral Thrawn in a way, what with his vicious protectiveness of his men. But likewise he was a lot like Captain Pellaeon, demanding the best from his crew and expecting to get it.

Hard but fair, tough but flexible enough to teach. Good qualities in any man.

The lift doors opened, and my heart skipped a beat. Captain Pellaeon stood at the threshold, eyebrows lifting in surprise before his eyes narrowed in annoyance. I didn't get to step out of his way. He walked right onto the lift, preventing my escape. I had no choice but to back away or force him to push me aside.

The short ride in silence was near unbearable, seeming to last forever. My heart jackhammered away at my ribcage, waiting for the inevitable explosion. The look on his face when he realized I had drawn him into my painting, the righteous rage, still haunted me. He was all calm serenity, though, something I tried desperately to imitate and failed. Until he reached over and keyed for the lift to stop between decks. I got hit with what I'd tried to avoid my entire time on this ship: his hard, cold stare. It brought me up short, had me standing at attention.

"I am not happy with you," Captain Pellaeon said bluntly, clipped regal anger in his tone. "If you ever touch my mind again, I will make you wish I had you executed. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir," I managed to whisper, standing so painfully at attention that I thought my spine would crack from it.

He let me hold that stance for a long couple of heartbeats before continuing. "The fact that Admiral Thrawn sanctioned that… contact, we'll call it… is the only reason you are still alive right now. I know that you were following orders. Just keep in mind, Crewman, that such excuses as 'following orders' have led many a brilliant officer to ruin. I trust I have made myself clear."

I nodded, trying so hard not to let my distress show on my face. I hadn't wanted to do it, he had to believe that. Part of me prayed that he did. But one learned quickly not to get on their Captain's bad side for any reason, following orders or not. He'd just flat out told me that if I had any hopes of earning further promotions on his ship, I was going to have to step twice as hard and three times as fast to earn his approval.

I was officially on notice as far as he was concerned.

"Good," he said at last, keying the lift to move again. He rolled his shoulders, as if removing knots of his own from the day's activities. The lift doors opened, and he stepped out, turning to face me one last time. "You have real talent, Crewman Idelas, both in your art and for your career. Don't waste either."

The doors closed before I could say a thank you. I programmed the lift for the next available floor, not caring what one it was, just wanting to put some distance between my Captain and the backhanded compliment I thought I had just received. Tears burned at my eyes, tears I refused to let fall. I was quickly running out of allies all because of this Force thing I could do, and it was only a matter of time before I ran out of places to run, too. And then C'Baoth would have me.

"No," I told myself firmly. "Death first. Death before that, even if I have to take my own life."

The lift doors parted again… and I found myself on that empty deck that contained the storage closet Tam, Pieterson and I now used for our clandestine meetings.

And that's where I found Reese, of all places.

His eyes widened in slight astonishment to see me, almost as wide as mine when I stepped out of the lift. He was standing in the hallway, as if in the middle of a random stroll through the ship. His black uniform was in place, rank bar and code cylinders and boots all shining in the subdued lighting. His hands were behind his back, however, and there was a stiffness to his posture that was slightly disquieting. Something was wrong. I didn't have to be Force sensitive to know that.

"Little one," he greeted, just standing there.

Just _standing _there instead of walking up to me like always, looming above me until I had to crane my neck to meet his eyes. His very presence would invade my personal space, his mingled scent of blaster cleaning fluid and freshly starched uniform and that slightly spicy muskiness that was just him flooding my senses. He would do it on purpose, overwhelm me for the same reason he called me "Little One." Just because it amused him. Just because he could do it. But it was harmless, mostly.

There was nothing harmless in his eyes right then, in the rigid lines of his body.

"Reese," I began softly, taking a step forward. If C'Baoth had infected him like he had the others…

He took a step back, and a smile that was nothing more than the flexing of his lip touched his face. "You should leave now, little one. I am here because I am not fit for civilized company of any kind."

Some of the tightness in my chest eased. That was a pure Reese statement. C'Baoth would have never said anything so humbling nor tolerated such humility in anyone he had reprogrammed.

"Nor am I," I said, surprising myself and taking another step forward. "We're a matched set, then."

He took another step back, retreating from me. Reese… retreating… from me! Wariness slid through that stormy gaze like smoke. Like the first hint that fire was on the way. And still I couldn't back down. I felt the same way I had my first day on duty, when I couldn't keep my mouth shut to save my life. When I had asked Ensign Colclazure for additional lessons in Imperial procedures. It had been a turning point in my life, a crossroads that I had reached and apparently had chosen my path correctly.

I was at one again, one that could mean everything and nothing depending on what I did next.

Reese's retreat had backed him into a wall. Nothing had changed in his posture. He wasn't pressed against that wall as if his life depended on it, or as if he didn't want to be touched by me. He was merely standing against it, hands clasped behind his back. Watching me approach with his predator stare, with the smoke growing thicker in those grey eyes. I started to tremble slightly, and it had nothing to do with fear.

His nostrils flared slightly, as if scenting my trembling and the emotions beneath. Again his stance never changed, but the impression he gave now was of a crouching panther ready to spring.

"You should leave now, little one," he repeated, voice devoid of emotion. "This is your last chance. Go, and be with your little Fleet brethren. Go be safe from the larger things that could eat you."

"No."

And I crossed that proverbial line we'd found that day in the mess hall when he'd kissed me, the one he had let me skip back across into this nebulous friendship thing we had. I stood up on tip-toes and kissed him.

His response was swift and violent. The fury of his storm, his internal fire, burst through his control and I found myself slammed hard into the wall he had been leaning against. But his mouth was still on mine, his hands gripping my waist, hiking me upward until I could wrap my legs around his hips. My arms wove around his neck, pulling him closer still until every part of me was touching every part of him. His hands cupped my ass, smashing our pelvises together. His tongue plundered my mouth, his lips pressing mine so hard I could nearly feel his teeth through them. It was brutal and harsh and primal and domineering. And, stars, I needed it.

I needed mindless passion, to forget just for a little while that a madman and an Admiral were currently using me against one another like a favored pawn in their chess game.

And just as swiftly as it had begun, I found myself hurled from his arms. I hit the deck hard enough to lose my breath. Reese had his forehead pressed against the plasteel, one hand balled into a fist, blood running from it where he'd smashed that hand into the wall. His breathing was ragged, heavy, as if he'd just run a thousand miles.

"Go," he snarled, the word barely understandable. "Leave me be, little one."

I couldn't. I knew I should heed him, that I should run and not look back. But the pain in his voice, in his body, that flowed from him in near tangible waves… Something horrible had happened on Nkllon, I realized. Something that shattered his titan-like control, and he was hiding down here in the unused levels until he could regain it.

I should have run. I didn't.

Because he hadn't let me push him away when I needed him. I wasn't about to do the same.

I moved faster than I had even thought I could, reaching for the hand that was bleeding on the wall. His grunt of pain was nearly cathartic as my fingers found those pressure points on his wrist. He was the helpless one for once as I whipped him around and into the very familiar unused storage area. Only when the door was locked and I was standing in front of it, did I let go.

Pieterson had gimmicked that lock, himself. No one knew the code to get out save for the three of us.

That didn't stop him from coming at me, however, slamming his palms on either side of the door jam, pinning me there. "Is this what you want?" he growled softly, pressing his body into mine. "Shall I have you here on this dirty floor, pillage your body and leave you broken? Is that what you want of me, Aria?"

Not three minutes ago, I would have wanted exactly that. But it wasn't lust that peppered his voice, that made him growl my name. It was rage, pure unprocessed raw rage… and anguish. If I said yes, I had no doubt that he'd do to me exactly as he'd just described. And that would be it between us forever more. He'd never glance at me again, never acknowledge my existence. I would be nothing to him.

"No," I said as calmly as I could. "I want to know what happened on Nkllon, Reese. I want to know what has hurt you."

He spun away from me, slamming his fist repeatedly into the wall until I thought one or the other would shatter, a tormented scream that had nothing to do with physical pain tearing from his lungs. "LEAVE!"

I waited for the scream to die down, from my ears to stop ringing from it. And then I crossed over to him and wrapped my arms around his waist, pressed my cheek to his shoulder. And I held him. That was all. Nothing sexual. Nothing soothing or comforting as I somehow knew he would perceive that as a weakness and throw me aside again. I simply held him together physically, anchored his emotions to his skin.

He was as stiff as iron in my arms, fine trembling running through his body. I held on anyway, willing to accept his pain if he threw me again. Ready to take the beating if he needed to doll one out. Not that I wouldn't fight back, of course. But I would let him strike first. I would let him land one solid blow before I returned like for like. If that was what he needed, I would give. I owed him that and so much more.

He did nothing of the sort, standing there with that one hand pressed to the plasteel, eyes fixated on the wall as if it were the only thing holding him to the universe.

When he drew in a shaking breath and slid down to his knees, I followed suit.

"Kalkins is dead," he said at last. "He died on Nkllon. There isn't a body to present to his wife."

My eyes closed tightly, and I held him tighter still. And said nothing. He wasn't addressing me. He was addressing his anger, his rage, and the bone deep sadness that came from losing his best friend and second-in-command. A man he had trained, but had also fought beside, watched his back, shared food and laughter with, and mayhap real friendship outside of war camaraderie.

So he wasn't addressing me. He was acknowledging his loss.

"C'Baoth," he breathed that name like a curse, like he could carve it into his memory like stone. He hung his head, forehead pressing against the wall once more, fighting to dominate his rage. "He lost control in the battle, started going after something other than our objective. Kalkins was still outside the troupe carrier when it happened, ensuring our goals were reached. It was his duty. But it was not his place to die like that. To scream the name "Skywalker" over and over as he moved like a broken puppet into that direct sunlight."

"He died before I could reach him," he said flatly, turning his face to the side, letting me view that chiseled profile. "I know you and the other two are working against him. I want in, Aria. From now on, I am in."

It wasn't a request. His tone brooked no argument. "Okay," I whispered, pressing my cheek back to his shoulder. "Okay."

And then I started to weep, my tears watering the fabric of his uniform. Crying for myself, for him, for Hollinger and Orn and now the new name that was imprinted on my heart: Kalkins. I wept for all the games of Sabbac he'd never play and bottles of whiskey he would never push into my face again. For the laughter on this tongue as I coughed up the harsh liquid and he pounded me relentlessly on the back. For all the victims of C'Baoth's madness, I wept.

I wept because Reese would not, because he could not. Because Kalkin's had died doing his duty. He wouldn't weep for that, he would honor it. So I cried for Kalkin in his stead, too.

The hand that wasn't slammed into the wall reached down to where my hands clasped his waist, closing over my fingers, further melding us together.

I don't know how long we knelt in that unused closet, the hours passing and as forgotten as the empty deck we stood upon. But it was long after my tears were spent, long after his control had returned, that he stirred and took my hand. The lift ride to his quarters was done in silence, the two of us standing apart as officers should, our emotions empty and sore. Not a hair out of place, not a sign of what we shared in that closet showed in any capacity. There was an unspoken agreement between us that nothing that happened there would ever leave it.

I didn't argue when he pulled me into his quarters, didn't say anything when we stripped off our uniforms and both somehow fit into the tiny vibe shower. We cleaned each other in silence, for once that sexual charge between us dormant. He put on his robe and I slid into one of his undershirts, the thing large enough on my frame to drop down to the tops of my thighs. And he pulled me down on top of him on his bed, settling me against him until we both found that comfortable position.

He ordered off the lights. And we slept. And for once I did not dream at all.


	14. Chapter 14 - Challenges

A/N: And Thrawn makes a return in this chapter! I really think I am getting the balance right with him, but I'll let you all be the judge of that. Thanks again for the reviews and the private messages. They truly help me focus on this story. :D

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

Trying to avoid Grand Admiral Thrawn was like trying to avoid breathing. He was suddenly everywhere I went, traveling down the same hallways or being in the lift each time I needed to use it. It was the same with Captain Pellaeon, though more painful to be honest. He was still wickedly upset with me, and each time he crossed into the lift I was reminded of my first week under Ensign Colclazure. I felt his eyes on me, searching my sharp stance as I stood at attention, looking for a defect in which to call me out on.

Either he never found one, or he had decided not to call me on it. Not a word crossed his lips, and when he exited the lift, it felt like he took every breath of good oxygen with him. I was left feeling half a person, like a girl that had been rejected by her secret crush. Not that I harbored those kinds of desires for my Captain, but I did crave his approval. Even more so now that I knew it was forever out of my reach.

Stars, Pieterson was right. I wasn't just turning into an Imperial; I _was_ one of them now. Heart and soul, I belonged to the Empire. And for a wonder, I wasn't ashamed of it. Not after seeing the Empire through my Captain's eyes, not after feeling his hope of what it could be again someday if Thrawn had his way.

Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Pieterson was slowly bending knee towards that direction, too. I reflected on that as I made my way onto the bridge, heading towards my duty station. He'd taken up the crusade against C'Baoth with a passion that was just shy of scary, and every name that Tam added to the list, every face we had to acknowledge as one of C'Baoth's victims/agents, fueled his passion to see the crew free of that monster forever. But on the negative side, it also fueled is anger at our Supreme Commander for letting this happen in the first place, twisted his thoughts until he no longer saw our little insurgency group as a necessary protection for just ourselves.

He saw himself as a rogue avenging angel for the entire crew. If that determination to see a ship full of Imperials safe wasn't bending knee to the life forced upon him, I didn't know what was.

Now Tam and I just had to figure out how to rid him of his obsessive desire to blame Grand Admiral Thrawn for all this. Or at least channel that blame and anger into another direction. Because even if he was correct, and that the Grand Admiral knew about all the mind tampering going on, there wasn't anything we could do about it. Plotting to take down C'Baoth was one thing. Plotting against your Admiral was something else.

One was a path towards salvation; the other was a slippery slope into treason and death.

I didn't like that thought, or the fact that it reminded me of the dreams I had. The nightmares came back after that one blissful night curled up against Reese, letting the strong steady beating of his heart lull me to sleep. Pieterson was still conspicuously absent from them, and the sense of urgency that left in me had woken me in cold sweats, Reese's arms locked around me to still the thrashing. His lips playing over my forehead as he murmured in his native language until I was asleep again.

Something was coming. Something bad that was going to shake the foundations of what we had all achieved, and Pieterson absense was the key to it. I just couldn't figure out what it was, and that one fact was driving me to fits. And I had to figure it out and soon, or I felt like I would never sleep again.

It took Reese a bit of effort to finally pry the words out of me, to get me to tell him what plagued my dreams and filled my waking moments with quiet dread. When I'd told him about the dreams finally, he'd said nothing. And then told me not to tell anyone else about them, not even Tam.

Not that I had much time to chat with Tam, at any event. It had been five days since that night in the abandoned area between Reese and me, and since then I had not been far from his side when either of us could help it. He was still angry, violently so, and he gave off an aura that reminded most people of Darth Vader when he swept down the halls.

Officers clearly above his rank leapt out of the way when he passed, leaving me to stutter out apologies or try to mollify wounded pride with expressions of intense remorse. The good officers, the ones that understood what losing one of your men could do to you, waved away my platitudes. The others… well, I had yet to receive any recriminations. And if Reese had received any, he wasn't talking about it.

The only time that anger stilled, retreating to barely boiling above the surface, was when my hand touched him. He literally stopped. Stopped moving. Stopped thinking. Stopped breathing. Just stopped, and stared at me. And I knew it wasn't for any power that I had over him, or any amount of command status he'd given me in his mind. It was purely out of a desire not to hurt me, not to let me be the outlet for his torment. And if his choices were to hurt or to stop everything, he chose the latter.

It was still a mystery to me. But if it kept him alive and kept others from the medical bay as a result of crossing his path at the wrong time, I was willing to deal with it.

When we were alone in his quarters, he was tender, almost gentle. We would sit on his bed with me between his legs, my back to his chest. Him leaning against the wall. And we would work on our various assignments. Just that. No sex, no lust. The charge was back between us, but he wasn't ready for it yet. Not until he could get his rage back under control was he going to touch me in any passionate way, not for anything in the known galaxy.

Instead, he would caress my hair absently, or let his arm fall around my waist as he read reports and resumes on his data pad, going through the odious motions of selecting a replacement for that painfully empty spot on his team. I'd lean into his touch with that same absent thought, working on my own research into Organa Solo and her brother, Skywalker, making notes in case either one popped into my painting again.

It was possessiveness, pure and simple, what Reese was doing with me. He'd warned me about crossing that imaginary line between us, the one we'd found that night by accident in the mess hall. I'd crossed it in the abandoned areas and, true to his word, he wouldn't let me cross back. I'd offered myself. He'd accepted.

And much like acknowledging I was an Imperial now, I didn't mind so much. That put a renewed burst of determination in my step, one that hid the fatigue brought on by sleep filled with nightmares.

"Crewman Idelas," Thrawn called from behind me, and inwardly I winced. Not two steps off the turbolift this time and he already noticed me. "Attend me, if you would be so kind."

"Of course, sir," I replied without missing a beat, turning properly and making my way to the command station.

He handed me a data pad. "Follow me."

I did as was instructed, falling into step behind him. We made the circuit of the bridge, crossing through the command walkways, and I recited the data that he requested with each step. It made no sense to me, this exercise, and was more than a little frustrating to be honest. This would be yet another day that I was absent from my team, another day that would leave me that much farther out of sync with the rest of them. I wanted to grind my teeth as we passed over my section, as the men and women under Ensign Colclazure glanced up and stared at me with shocked or annoyed expressions.

I was supposed to be Ensign Colclazure's second. I was supposed to be earning the respect and trust of these people. Instead I had to wonder how long before shock and annoyance turned into jealousy. Until they started to gather the wrong impression of me, to think that I was sleeping with the Admiral or the Captain in order to gain promotions or favors. It made me want to scream.

Their accusing eyes were like slaps to the face, slaps that I could not react to in the slightest. Reaction would provide justification to their wrong assumptions, and my downward spiral in their eyes would occur all the more faster. Thankfully Ensign Colclazure's eyes met mine, and I saw a mixture of pride in where I was warring with his own jealousy. He wanted the promotion to Lieutenant so badly he could taste it, and he saw my advancements and potential as a ticket to that promotion—but only if I didn't bypass him first.

Still, his steady gaze was a small comfort that mollified my anxiety somewhat.

And speaking of slaps to the face, passing through those random ysalamiri bubbles was like individual stinging strikes all over my body. Apparently, the more I used the Force, the more keenly I felt its absence. I tried to keep the pain and irritation from my voice, but it seemed each time we crossed into a new bubble, I was in the middle of speaking. My voice would hitch slightly. And each time that happened, Admiral Thrawn would turn a knowing little smile in my direction.

By the time we returned to the command section, I felt like I had run five miles in a matter of minutes.

"Your skills are improving," he said, taking his seat. It wasn't a question.

He wasn't speaking of my recital of facts or proper use of military protocol when attending him. I knew it. He knew it.

"Yes, sir," I admitted, trying not to grit my teeth.

He noticed that anyway, glancing up at me. "This bothers you, doesn't it, this use of the Force. You do not need to ask," he countered before I could form the words. "You have my permission to speak freely."

"Yes," I said, more than a touch of frustration tinting my voice.

"Why?"

"Because I feel like I'm losing my true skills, sir. I haven't sat my station in five days."

"And your skills at the tractor beam are more important?"

"To me, yes… and no," I admitted. "I was brought here and trained in tractor beam usage, yes, but I was also taught to work as a cohesive member of a team. And more than that, I stand now as Ensign Colclazure's second. I need to be with the men under me, if only to earn their trust. Five days may not seem like a lot, but to a team as new as we are, it can mean the difference between a success and a failure."

He considered that a long moment, and then indicated I should sit. I hadn't realized that the chair that had been brought for me the last time was still there. That was more than a little unnerving. More than a little heartbreaking, too, when I saw my Captain frown deeply when I sat.

Those glowing eyes didn't miss that frown, nor the way I hesitated for a split-second before sitting. "Captain, I require an update on that special modification I requested for the _Judicator_," he requested calmly. "Please see to it personally."

"Yes, Admiral," my Captain replied smoothly.

And the way Pellaeon's eyes didn't so much as glance in my direction let me know he understood the reason for the request, the reason he was asked to leave his own command section. That the reason was me. All the discipline in the Empire couldn't have stopped the slight drooping of my shoulders at that.

"Captain Pellaeon is a remarkable warrior," Thrawn said after the turbolift doors closed behind Pellaeon. "His service to the Empire is impeccable. But he is precisely that, Crewman, a servant of the Empire. No more and no less. He serves just as you serve. He acknowledges his duties, however distasteful he may find them, and he performs them flawlessly. He does not bear much of a grudge for long, especially if those distasteful duties are necessary for our victory."

He was talking about me, I realized, inferring that that 'distasteful duty' had been when I had pulled him into my painting. He was attempting to reassure me that the sudden animosity between Pellaeon and I would someday fade. Giving me hope that I could one day redeem myself in my captain's eyes. How in the known galaxy he thought I was going to do that was fully beyond me.

"Yes, sir," I answered as politely as I could.

A bit of a smile flirted with the edge of his mouth. "Do I detect a note of rebellious disbelief in your tone, Crewman? No, do not give into fear just yet. I gave you permission to speak freely and I expect you to use it."

I swallowed passed the lump in my throat. It took a few tries. "I didn't just disobey him, Admiral," I said at length. "I betrayed him from his point of view. Doing so under orders doesn't lessen the sting of that betrayal. He's my captain, and I'm supposed to be unwavering in my loyalty to him. How am I ever going to regain that trust?"

That smile grew, becoming somewhat lopsided. "Sometimes, Crewman Idelas, I forget just how young you are. Your potential outshines your youthful naivety, shall we call it. It is rather refreshing, given other company of late. Tell me, shall I transfer you to another ship? Would that put your fears to rest?"

Somehow that thought was worse than facing a full blown dressing down from Captain Pellaeon. "I could never regain his trust that way," I surprised myself in saying. And then a thought occurred to me a thought that made me sit up straighter. After all, he _had_ given me permission to speak freely… "Why does it matter so much to you? How do my feelings towards my Captain help in your campaign?"

Those expressive eyebrows lifted, and had that smile not still been in place, I would have sworn I'd overstepped my bounds. Even then, I wasn't too sure that I hadn't.

"It matters very much to me," he explained easily. "For reasons you are not quite ready to understand yet. Suffice it to say, I need you here on the _Chimaera_ with me, and I need you to be able to work with Captain Pellaeon with the same determination and loyalty you give to your Ensign and your team."

That wasn't the explanation I had expected by a long shot. "I will always give my best for my command staff, from Ensign Colclazure all the way to you, sir. That should never be in question."

He chuckled at the way I winced when I realized how kiss-up that sounded. Stars, I_ was_ reliving my first day with Ensign Colclazure, right down to the bizarre questions and answers and exercises and conversations that I somehow knew were way above my pay grade.

"I know, Crewman Idelas," he waved away my softly rising panic with a graceful sweep of his hand. "If there was any question as to your loyalties or motivations, you would not be here right now. Lay your fears to rest for the moment. I want you to try and use your… painting did you call it? No, stay seated and reach out from here. I know you have been experimenting with your abilities, I could see it in you when we crossed each ysalamiri barrier on the bridge. You know where they are now. I want you to try and slip between them. Now, please."

For the first time I realized that my seat was somewhat away from his, that I wasn't sitting under the influence of the ysalamiri wrapped around his command chair. Inwardly, I kicked myself. Once again, I missed the obvious when in his presence, my attention swallowed by his commanding presence and the legend that already surrounded him.

I nodded, taking a deep breath. And did as he asked.

I spent the next twelve hours trying to pull random targets of his choosing into my painting. No matter who the Admiral indicated, I wasn't able to do it. My personal range just wasn't there, and I would be damned if I drew upon Tam's strength for this. So far no one knew about him and his power, and I was determined to keep it that way. So by the time I was finished I was drenched in sweat, hands trembling where they grasped the armrests of my chair with white-knuckled grips. But it wasn't the failures that he was counting, I learned, but the distance to each failure. Or should I say, the fact the distance between failure and success was shortening.

I was gaining range with each hour that passed. Not much, mind you. Mere centimeters if that. I would never be Tam's equal, and that meant I couldn't even dream of being a puff of smoke compared to C'Baoth's bonfire. But the gained distance was adding up, and my familiarity with the ysalamiri and their locations had a profound impact on the painting. When he finally released me from trying, I could see each bubble of Force emptiness.

Not just see them in my mind's eye, or see them on my painting, but _see_ them in reality if I concentrated just right. They shimmered like iridescent force fields, very much like a soap bubble floating on the air. The sight took my breath away, had me leaning back into my seat.

"What do you see, Crewman?" my Admiral asked me.

The pleased smile that touched his lips, that made his eyes glitter like that when I told him also made my heart miss a beat.

* * *

My head felt like it was going to split in two by the time I made it to the abandoned storage closet on the empty deck. Not even the wondrous heat from Reese's too-perfect fingers could rub the pain from my neck, nor massage the agony from my temples. It lessened the paint tremendously, don't get me wrong, but it couldn't banish it. I'd pressed too hard on the bridge, reached my limits and then pressed past those at Admiral Thrawn's request.

I was paying for it now. And Pieterson's growling wasn't helping.

"Absolutely not," he snarled, coming to a stop and glaring down at us.

The "us" I was referring to was Reese and I. We were seated on the floor much like when we sat together on his bunk, me between his legs, his knees bent as a kind of extra bit of shielding for me. An extra bit of distance to put between Pieterson and I. My hands rested atop his knees, my head bent forward as those masterful hands did their work on my upper shoulders and neck. When neither of us spoke, Pieterson swore beneath his breath and continued his stomping/pacing routine.

"Be reasonable, Pieterson," Tam tried again, exasperation evident in his normally calm tone. "At the very least, he knows what we are doing. If he was going to turn us in, he would have done so already."

"I said no," Pieterson retorted, glancing down at Reese. "He isn't one of us. He's an Imperial to his core. And besides, this is my operation. I doubt he's going to bend his knee to me."

"Like any of us bend our knee to you anyway," I interjected through clenched teeth, ignoring Pieterson's acidic glare. Reese's hands were down into my lower back, working on a knot that felt like bone. "You lead us because you have the skills we don't. Not because we swore an oath to you. What happened to us being friends here, to us just trying to survive our tours and going home?"

The yelp that left my lips when Reese pressed his thumb into the knot in my back, combined with the slight popping sound as the disk slipped back into place, let me know that it had indeed been bone. The majority of my pain vanished and I sagged against his chest. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied, his lips ghosting across my ear as he spoke. Completely ignoring the hot glares Pieterson threw at him. "Next time, relax your body like I taught you in your combat training. Do not tense for any reason, unless it is to lift something. Tension only damages your form and hampers your ability to utilize your skills. This applies to all aspects of life, not just to fighting, little one."

When my eyes fluttered shut this time, it had nothing to do with what his hands were currently doing and everything with what I hoped they'd one day do to me. Just the feel of his lips against my ear, whispering like that… I felt his smile grow as his lips ghosted up to my temple.

"Soon," he whispered. "Not yet, little one, but soon. You have my promise on that."

Tam cleared his throat roughly, glancing away. He was blushing furiously, the back of his neck beet red, and I felt a flush of my own climb into my cheeks. Kriff, I was so tired from the day's exertions that I'd lost control of the link between Tam and I. Tam had received a full burst vision of what I'd hoped that Reese's promise to me meant.

Having that link with Tam, having his thoughts and my own merging so often, I had become used to him being there. Sharing my experiences as keenly as I shared his. Like the fact that I knew there was a wrinkle in his undershirt just under his left arm, that it was bothering him as it rubbed against the not-so-forgiving fabric of our uniform jumpsuits.

Now that Reese and I were… whatever the hell we were, I was going to have to start erecting some walls. _Sorry, Cal, _I sent on a burst of apologetic amusement. _That one got away from me._

_I can imagine, _he chuckled. _Very creative use of space, by the way. Do you really think you and Reese could fit into that small an area and get your leg to—_

I flushed so hot and red that I had to cover my face with my hands. _For the love of all that is good, Cal, you are just as bad as Vyns with making me blush! Now fix your uniform so I can stop trying to fix mine._

_It's not bothering me that badly._

_Well, it's bothering me._

He sighed aloud this time, unfastening the front of his jumpsuit and making the necessary corrections. He turned back to me, both eyebrows lifted. _Happy now?_

"Ecstatic," I replied aloud with candy-sweet sarcasm.

Tam laughed.

"Stop it," Pieterson broke in, spreading that glare between Tam and myself, and dumping a good dose of it on Reese by association. "It's like listening to half a conversation when you two do that. Worse, it's like listening to a quarter of it."

"You're the one that told us to work on this link," I sighed. "You all but ordered us to stay in constant contact until we could maintain the link both awake and asleep."

Reese shifted a bit behind me, arms wrapping around my waist. "Do not berate the men under your command for following your orders," he admonished conversationally, as if he were giving me another lesson like the one about tension. "It not only makes you look weak and inept as a leader, it creates disharmony in your unit. "

"When I want lessons on Imperial dictatorship, I'll ask for them," Pieterson shot back. "Until then, don't say anything. You're not even part of this yet."

"Believe that if you wish," Reese shrugged.

"Oh, I'll believe it. Because it's the truth."

"Pieterson, please, be reasonable," Tam tried again, catching the other man's arm before he could pace away. "We need him. We need all the help we can get, actually. C'Baoth is off the _Chimaera_ for stars only know how long. This gives us an unprecedented chance to really see what he's been doing to the crew. And our list of victims is impressive. We need help in reaching as many as we can."

We all breathed a collective sigh of relief knowing that the Chimaera was heading away from Jomark, from the planet that now contained the mad Jedi Master. Why he had chosen to go there, none of us could figure out. But the main point was that he was off the ship for the first time since he'd boarded. Tam and I were nearly giddy for the reprieve.

Until a stray thought finally clicked into place in my head.

I felt my palm smack into my forehead. "So that's why he was doing it. Son of a _bitch,_ why couldn't I have seen that coming?" The room fell silent, even Pieterson holding his tongue in lieu of my outburst. "It's why the Admiral had me sitting at his side for the past five days, why I constantly ran into him or Captain Pellaeon and a stormtrooper carrying one of those ysalamiri frames. He promised C'Baoth that I could attend him when my 'duties permitted.' So he made absolutely certain that my duties wouldn't allow it, up to the point when we reached Jomark."

"Interesting," Reese murmured, nodding. "And the time you have spent in my bed kept C'Baoth from locating you in your off time."

I almost punched him for putting it that way. It was a deliberate dig against Pieterson, regardless of the validity of the statement. My hiding in Reese's cabin, in the officers' quarters of the ship heavily shielded by ysalamiri, had kept me all but invisible to C'Baoth. And the fact that Reese was implying that I warmed his bed—and his body in spite of the truth of that—every night had been a direct challenge to Pieterson. Not that Pieterson wanted me like that, but cold empty sheets were cold empty sheets.

It was a dig in repayment for the insults Pieterson had hurled at him. Though unlike the ones Pieterson had tossed about, this one hit its mark.

"Get him the hell out of here," Pieterson quaked with barely restrained fury. "I won't work with a heartless Imperial."

Oh, that did it. "Dammit, Pieterson, wrong thing to say," I put in hotly, quickly, knowing that Pieterson had finally hooked a barb into the iceman behind me.

Tam winced at the same time I felt Reese tense. Reese wasn't heartless anymore than Captain Pellaeon was, and the fact that he still mourned Kalkins in his own way was more than proof to the contrary. My hand locked around Reese's where they were folded around my waist, hoping it was enough to restrain him. Feeling the quiet in Reese's mind that I only felt in the training area, only felt when he spared against his best men, when he trained to win.

When he was ready to kill_. I am one of the big bad Imperials that you conscripts fear,_ he had said before. _Do not ever forget that..._

I hadn't. I never would.

"In case you haven't been paying attention, I _am_ an Imperial now," I tossed back at Pieterson, trying to forestall the inevitable. "So are you. So is Tam."

"Conscription does not make you an Imperial in your heart," Pieterson answered coldly.

I met his stare head-on. "No, it doesn't, but taking a stand does. And we've all done that, regardless of what you tell yourself. The moment we decided to work against C'Baoth, we all took a stand for the Empire and for its people," Just like that, Admiral Thrawn's words came back to me. "You can hide behind your anger and your naivety all you want, Cris Pieterson, but you do your duty every day, however distasteful you find it. You protect this crew like we do, and that more than enlisting willingly, makes you Imperial."

"She's right," Tam echoed softly, rubbing a hand through his hair. "Burn me, but she's right. We aren't the same people we were before this happened, Pieterson. If we were, we wouldn't be risking our lives for a bunch of Imperials we hated. But that's what we're doing right this minute. That's what you're doing, too."

Pieterson's hands fisted and unfisted at his side, his face a mask of rage that had Reese staring at him with that quiet concentration again. It reminded me of that night in the hallway outside of this very room. Him standing against that wall, looking so relaxed as if to be at peace, but so ready to spring into action. There was very little doubt in my mind that he could kill Pieterson before the man knew what was happening to him. Even with me lying in his arms.

"I hate him, Idelas," Pieterson spit viciously. "I really and truly hate him for what he's done to you, for what he's done to us all."

"We all hate C'Baoth and what he's done," Tam put in in his rational tone again, trying to be peacemaker like always.

"It's not C'Baoth he hates," Reese put in quietly, eyes still fixated on Pieterson's rage-filled form. "Is it, Pieterson?"

Blue eyes met grey eyes, and Tam and I shivered from the danger that filled the air. "No, I hate Thrawn," Pieterson hissed the name like a curse. "He's destroyed you, Idelas, murdered you and replaced you with this monster that wears your face."

"No, he didn't," I threw back, the need to defend my Admiral welling in me. "He—"

"Yes, he did," Reese surprised us all in saying, cutting off every protest from every mouth. "Whether by direct or indirect order, he murdered you all as you so dramatically put it, when you were conscripted from your homes. As little one so aptly said, your naivety has been stripped away and your innocence stolen, and Imperial training has rebuilt what was left. You are not the same person you were when you left your homeworld."

He rose to his feet, helping me to mine along the way. And simply stood before Pieterson, all six-foot-six of him peering down at Pieterson's five-foot-eleven. "On my planet, when one is conscripted, their family holds a funeral for them. Because the loved one they see boarding the shuttle is not the same loved one that returns to them after the terms of servitude are spent. That life is dead to them. Just as it is dead to you, Pieterson. Do you think your family will welcome you back with open arms after all that you have done?"

"So what, am I supposed to just accept this?" Pieterson seethed, glaring up at the larger man as if daring him to strike first. "Give over and be a walking mockery like Idelas over there?"

Reese twitched at that, and Tam and I felt the wave of rage that washed over him at that insult. But he didn't move, didn't give in to that rage. "Do whatever you wish," he replied. "Just as little one and Tam have done. They know they are dead to their pasts, but instead of becoming ghosts that linger in humiliation, they have become protectors. They have chosen to learn all they can from whomever they can, up to and including the Admiral you so viciously hate. And they use that knowledge to protect others from fates worse that their own."

Unbelievably, that part got through to Pieterson, even if only in a small way. Maybe it was the brutal honesty that had the other man reeling his head back as if physically struck. Maybe it was the way that Reese stood not only between Pieterson and myself, but also between Pieterson and Tam. I saw Tam's eyes widen when that realization hit him, too. And maybe, just maybe, Reese was standing between Pieterson and his own self destruction.

Protecting all of us.

I felt some of that anger in Reese fade, that prevalent boiling cauldron of vengeance finally starting to reshape itself, to find definition and purpose at last. He was made for this, I realized. This huge man with the soothing hands and the sharp wit that cut through utter dreck and laughter alike, was a healer and protector by nature. And the more he healed and protected others, the more he healed himself.

_That's his power, his gift, _Tam sent to me, thoughts filled with quiet awe.

I blinked. _What are you talking about?_

_Reese,_ Tam thought back, nodding his head slightly towards the stare down going in front of us. _He's a force talent as well, like you. You had to have noticed it by now. Just like when you clicked with me in the lift, you clicked with Reese in that training room. He's a healer, Ari. And if we go with the theory that C'Baoth's taint on people is a disease, adding him to our link might be the edge we need to heal the madness instead of trying to pry it out._

I felt like the breath had been knocked out of me. It did make sense in an odd way. My instant trust of him, the way he was able to bring me down from that panic attack I'd had in the mess hall with just his on my neck. And the way he constantly touched me now, in the midst of his own personal hurt, was like applying balm to a burn.

_I amplify the healing in him,_ I thought back to Tam. _Like I amplify your power when we're connected. _

_That's exactly right._

"Were you a conscript?" Pieterson asked Reese at last, some of the bitter burning anger gone from his tone.

Reese lifted his eyebrows. "No. I joined willingly. Most of my world has always been loyal to the Empire, just as I am loyal to the Empire. Just as little one is now loyal, and Tam is now loyal. And so are you, I believe, if you can let go of your personal hate long enough to see the Empire for what it really is."

For a moment there, it almost worked. I saw a glint of who Pieterson really was beneath the layers of hate and remorse and fear that he wore like a cloak. But then he shook his head, and donned his mantle of self-righteous indignation once more.

"Whatever," he muttered angrily. "None of this changes a thing about our situation. If you want in with us, fine. You're in. But understand I call the shots here. Rank out there doesn't matter a wit in here."

Reese pursed his lips for a moment and then finally nodded. "And it's painted," he said, and I got the impression that phrase meant it was final. "I'll follow your lead on this under one condition."

"That being?"

"That you listen to my advice whether you want to or not. I have more reason than you to want this strike team to succeed. But I will not see any of you harmed in its execution. If I see a flaw with your plan, you will listen to my explanation. If I give a suggestion, we'll discuss it in detail. Otherwise, little one and I will leave and do this on our own."

Pieterson's eyes narrowed. "You speak for her now?"

"When her life depends on it, yes," He said without hesitation. "And she'll follow my lead on this."

Pieterson glanced over Reese's shoulder, caught my eye. And I found myself nodding in agreement with Reese. It didn't mean I wasn't going to have it out with Reese when we were alone. I could bloody well speak for myself. But in that moment I followed his lead. Because he was right, and even Tam nodded in unison with me.

"Fine," Pieterson bit out at last, taking a deep breath to let his voice return to normal. "Okay. First off, Reese, you need to have a talk with Tam. He's going to determine if you have a gift with the Force or not. Depending on the outcome of that, we'll talk about how to add you into our next plan."

For a wonder, Reese nodded placidly, executed a military turn, and headed over to where Tam and I stood. Like a good soldier following the orders of his commander…


	15. Chapter 15 - Small Victories

A/N: Sorry so long in updating this one! And thanks as always for the private messages and reviews. I'm so glad that you like this story as much as I like writing it. :) Special thanks to **Leanne Lycantro** and **Rogue Mandalorian **for their awesome input on this story. Last chapter I incorporated several of their ideas and suggestions, and I should have given the shout out there. Somehow it got dropped off the A/N. Thank you again for the help!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun!

* * *

Tam was right in one thing, adding Reese to our link had definitely given us an edge, and a powerful one at that.

His mental acuity, the sheer about of focused discipline honed by his years of service as a stormtrooper, was something that Tam and I lacked in spades. To break it down, his focus was the difference between me holding a knife and Reese holding a knife. I could cut with it. I could even kill with it if I had to. But the same thing in Reese's hands became a piece of art, a weapon that could take down an entire room full of people without pause. So was it with the Force. He was a master of discipline, and that gave us more than an edge this time.

But the days we had spent training together had not prepared me for the impact of a full bond between us.

Kneeling down against the wall of our meeting place was about all I could manage, hiding within my painting as Tam and Pieterson moved in on our target. My beloved ocean waters were stormy, the sky as grey and unrelenting as Reese's eyes. Cruel winds tortured the sable palms that dotted the beach, bending them until they nearly snapped, until the fronds scored the sand in patterns that defied my imagination. Artistic patterns, intricate like the most exquisite abstract. But harsh in their complexity instead of inspiring.

And in the distance, a hurricane brewed and twisted, throwing about tornadoes to twist across the rocking waves, haunting dancers portraying beautiful destruction. My hands clutched my head both within and without the painting, trying to steady the imagery, to keep its frame square and firm. I was afraid, even though I knew I shouldn't be, even though we had practiced this time and again. I was still afraid.

But I had to hold firm, or someone was going to die.

Tam was nearing the target, Pieterson further down the hall acting as a lookout. Ensign Megga Tarn smiled uneasily as Tam approached. I saw her through Tam's eyes, filtered through the bond and painting. She was dirty, like a glass vessel left near a fire too long. Warped in places, soot covered, but at her core still the clean beautiful shape that she had always been. She could be saved. Those warped edges smoothed back into place, her form cleansed of the grime.

Inside her vase, a smaller flickering candle flame rested, a mini version of herself that wept at the darkness surrounding her. C'Baoth had only just begun to corrupt her before he'd left, which was why Pieterson had selected her for our first endeavor with Reese. We had to start small, the memory of Ensign Orn's death at our ignorant hands still painfully fresh in our hearts.

But I didn't have time to reflect on that. Megga had taken the bait. She followed Tam into a side room, interested in this little bit of technology that he'd tempted her with. She couldn't know the storm waiting on the inside, that Reese stood in the shadows like a thundercloud, ready to take control of the link.

She crossed the barrier.

The doors closed.

And the hurricane broke across my beach.

I had no idea how powerful the three of us would become when fully united. Tam was still by far the strongest of us, Reese and I barely a blip on the radar next to him. In the stories of the old days of the Jedi Order were to be believed, Reese and I would never have registered as talented enough to be trained. But Tam? The Order would have snapped him up in a heartbeat and never let go.

He had given all that power into Reese's hands.

I rocked myself back and forth as Reese drew deeply on the link, riding the hurricane that threatened to consume me. He drew on Tam first and fed that power back through me, amplifying it through my gift, and then feeding on that all over again. I felt Tam gasp; go up on tiptoe even as my head bowed to my knees, a moan escaping my lips. The sweet rush of power, the infinite taste of the universe, flooded us beyond measure. Every hair on my body stood on end, the scuttle of the air recycler like roaring in my ears, the current of the very air like waves slapping against my flesh.

It was glorious. It was terrifying. It was _everything_.

Reese nearly staggered under that crush of power, and only his years of hard training kept him upright.

Now came the hard part. He focused in on Megga, used Tam to hold her tightly with the Force. And ever so softly, so carefully, he poured in a trickle of that power into her mind. She resisted, head thrashing back and forth, the soot on her attempting to coalesce into something like tar. But Reese was controlled, his baser emotions emptied into my painting, contained in its boarders. His rage over Kalkins death, over C'Baoth's many transgressions against this crew, the storm that threatened my painting.

I watched him pour that trickle of power into her vessel like watching pure clean water sliding over her. The thrashing increased, a scream that would have shaken the walls had Tam not swallowed it in the Force leaving her mouth. Her lips peeled back from her teeth, snarling like a beast, like the personification of the madness that C'Baoth had infected her with. In the painting, her vase tried to shatter and reform itself, tried to become a monstrous dog-headed thing with eyes like C'Baoth's.

_Now, Little One_, Reese called across the winds. _Now!_

The paintbrush was in my hand, and I reshaped her even as C'Baoth's implanted orders changed her, forcing her back into that beautiful vase shape, refusing to let the beast win. The soot and tar split in two, trying to attack both the water and my painting at once. It was the opening that Reese needed, and that trickle of water became a deluge, forcing the madness to split again and again and again. Each piece infinity less powerful than before. Tam struck next, building an orb of light around the tiny flame that was Megga's heart, sheltering her from the deluge as Reese washed away everything on a tide of healing balm. Blasting the pieces of tar-like madness into nothingness with jagged bolts of lightning from his storm. We repeated the attack until all that remained was the pure vessel and the flame of her life.

Megga's form went slack, her eyes rolled up into her head. But she was breathing strong and steady as Tam lowered her gently into Pieterson's arms.

And she was clean.

* * *

"We did it!" Pieterson crowed triumphantly as he, Tam, and Reese entered our storage closet.

I tried a weak smile, my head echoing dully with the remnants of that hurricane of power. Judging by the expressions on Reese and Tam, they didn't feel much better. We'd won this round, true, but it had taken a lot out of us. And that wasn't a good sign. If Megga was only recently touched by C'Baoth's taint, how much harder would it be to free the others that had been under the madman's influence longer? And if this was just a taste of what C'Baoth could do when he wasn't present on the ship, we were absolutely no match for the man, himself.

I now knew why he could claim in absolute truth that he was a Jedi Master. Insane or not.

"Why are you three acting like someone killed your family pet?" Pieterson continued, that smile still bright on his lips. "We saved Ensgin Tarn. We saved her! The three of you united like that are unstoppable. In time, you may be able to simply do what you want and waltz right off this ship without anyone being able to challenge you."

The look Reese shot at him would have made a normal man cower in abject terror. But Pieterson was in no frame of mind to heed it. He was practically dancing on his toes like a boy. Tam shook his head, pulling two bottles of water from his pack and handing them to Reese and me.

"It's not enough," Reese said after taking a long pull from his water. "Today was a victory, but it has not won us the war."

"So we find others like you guys and get them involved," Pieterson countered jovially. "The more the merrier."

I went eight shades of pale at that. I could barely handle Reese and Tam in my head, and he wanted to add others?

"You don't understand," Tam shook his head. "There _are_ no others. Not for light years around, Pieterson. The Force moved the three of us here—I believe that with all my heart—otherwise we would not have met like this. Think about that, man, really think about it. Three Force users on the same ship? It's unheard of; the chances of that happening randomly are astronomical. But it did, and that's all the Force has given us."

"You don't know that. We can search the ship again. Maybe you missed someone."

Tam sighed, sinking down on the floor next to me, Reese mirroring him on the other side. I let my head rest against Reese's shoulder, the fingers of my opposite hand linking with Tam's. So comfortable now, the three of us, touching like this. Sharing Reese's healing ability and Tam's strength and my… well, I still wasn't certain what I contributed to this group outside my painting but I couldn't deny that it was there. We were stronger united, and even more so when we touched physically.

It made me wonder about Organa Solo and the twins she carried. Is that why she was able to break into my painting? Was she that much stronger because of the babes within her? It was something I would have to consider.

"I didn't miss anyone," Tam said through gritted teeth. "When we added Reese and extended our combined rage, I swept the whole ship. Read my lips, Pieterson: there's no one else."

Pieterson frowned, staring down at his boots, that mind of his turning over Tam's words. And like we had all come to know about Pieterson, his brain had run off in the wrong direction with them. "Then we have to double our efforts," he pulled out the data pad, flipping through the names. "There's another one we could hit tonight. Looks to be about in the same position as Ensign Tarn, tampering wise. If we hurry, we can catch him before he leaves the mess hall."

"Pieterson, look at us!" Tam snapped irritably. "Do we look like we're ready to bounce off to another mission? Reese and I might be able to handle it, but Ari's not ready. It takes more out of her to amplify us than it takes for us to draw from her."

"Then leave her behind. The two of you should be able to handle this on your own."

Reese smiled. It was the kind of smile that Death wore when he was about to claim a soul. "Little One is not left behind," he said quietly, firmly. "Any more than I would leave Tam behind on this kind of mission. You speak foolishness."

"You don't lead here, Reese. I do."

"That can be changed, Pieterson. Never forget that. You lead because they let you. You do not lead me."

Pieterson didn't bother to look up from the datapad, anymore than he bothered to acknowledge the warning looks I threw at him. "Reese, any time you feel you can't keep up with us, feel free to walk out that door."

Tam moved before I could, leaping onto Pieterson and dragging him to the floor. I had tried to throw myself not Reese's lap, to grab at that pressure point on at least one of his wrists. Apparently that one night in the hallway was the only freebie I would get with that move. He was ready for it, wrapping me in one arm and settling me in his lap. I was straddling him before I knew it, my face pressed into the curve of his neck where it met the shoulder. His hand gently on the back of my neck.

There was a dull thud, and I knew that Reese's other arm was fully extended. As if he'd thrown something…

I glanced up. I had no idea where he'd hidden that vibroblade on his person, but it was now sunk nearly to the hilt into the wall. Right where Pieterson's head would have been if Tam hadn't tackled him to the floor.

"That is a warning," Reese said simply, voice back to that casual tone he used when instructing his troupes, the hand on the back of my neck now gently caressing down my spine. "Tam would not have been able to save you if I wanted you dead. Your attitude, Pieterson, will get you killed if you do not control it. Not all officers share my restraint."

Restraint? That was him showing restraint? I swallowed hard, hands resting lightly on his chest. Remembering again that Reese was a stormtrooper, the elite of the elite of the Imperial Army. And he was loyal to his core to the Empire. While Tam and I huddled in this empty storage closet because our lives depended on it, Reese was here because he wanted to be, and he could leave just as easily.

As if to illustrate that point, he rose to his feet effortlessly with me still wrapped around his waist. If I hadn't have gasped at the act, I wouldn't have been surprised if he carried me out the door with him as if I were an additional utility belt or something. But he paused, setting me down at his side.

"This evening's activities are at a close," he said. "Little One and I need our rest."

With that, he literally stepped over the two men lying on the floor, and yanked his blade out of the wall. It disappeared up some hidden forearm sheath. Then we were leaving. I glanced back before the doors closed, saw Pieterson's too white face staring at the fresh hole in the plasteel wall. Saw Tam's nearly matching expression as well. It scared me, that look. Reminding me for some reason of my dreams and Pieterson's absence in them.

In those dreams, it had been Tam in the front, the leading point of our triangle. It had not been Pieterson.

_He's going to die, Little One_, Reese said into my thoughts.

_No, he's not, _I snapped back, fighting off a sudden wave of tears_. I think… I think you got through to him this time._

Reese shook his head as he keyed for a lift. _I did not. He is merely scared for now, but his pride will return with a vengeance. I told you in the beginning that I had seen this before. His actions will lead to a poor decision, his pride unwilling to let him bend to the correct course. Be careful that you are not pulled under with him. I would hate to lose you._

_You aren't going to lose me,_ I frowned in annoyance. _And I don't know how many times I have to say this until you get it through your head, but Pieterson is our friend. If he's making a mistake, we need to help him see it._

He stared at me with those hard flat grey eyes. Stared at me like Captain Pellaeon stared at me when I approached the command stations. Like I was being dense on purpose, like I was an idiotic cadet talking and moving out of turn. Worst of all, I felt like it under that stare. And I hated that part of me that understood that Reese was right. Pieterson was on a self-destruct course, one that was about to come to its gory conclusion.

No, I thought viciously to myself. I couldn't let that happen. I squared my shoulders, pinning him with a resolute stare of my own. _Then that means we just have to step twice as hard to help him. I'm not giving up on him, and neither are you. He's one of us, and you won't let one of your men go down in flames if you can help it. I know that much about you at least._

We stepped into a waiting lift, continuing our argument even with the three other officers that filled it. It was the one good benefit of linking with Reese. Well, one of the many, at least.

_He is not one of my men. _He continued.

_Yes, he is. _I countered.

_I disagree. I would have never selected him under my command. His psychological profile is enough to remove him from consideration._

_You read his fleet records? That's an abuse of your authority._

_Not when it comes to your safety, Little One._

_Or Tam's?_

He fought not to make a face, especially with others present. To anyone else that did not know him, all they saw was a slight tightening of his eyes. For those that did, it spoke volumes of his emotional state. _Or Tam's. _He admitted at last.

I fought like hell not to smirk as we stepped off the lift to the officer's quarters, savoring that tiny little victory. I'd get him to acknowledge us all as an extended team for him, no matter what it took. _We don't always have a choice as to whom we will serve with, Reese. Being conscripted taught me that._

_No, we don't. But neither do we have to fall with those that make the wrong decisions._

_Pieterson won't make a bad decision. You don't know him like I do. When push comes to shove, he'll do what is right._

_And that's exactly what I am afraid of, Little One. _

"And what, exactly is that supposed to mean?" I asked aloud, turning to face him as we entered his room.

"Just what it says," he said flatly. "Pieterson will do what is right for Pieterson. That's all he will consider. Not you. Not Tam. Not anything else. Now, enough of this talk. We will not agree on the subject, and I would rather not spend what little time I have left with you in arguments."

But what if _I_ wanted to argue? Hell, I still owed him a piece of my mind for making decisions for me. He started towards me, his eyes swirling with hints of blue, and that silenced all protests.

I felt my breath pick up as he wrapped his arm around my waist, as his lips touched mine. Was it time? Would he let me be with him now? How odd it was, this reversal of roles. Here I was nearly dying to bed him, to feel him inside me. And it was _he_ that was playing shy, stringing me along with promises of when the time was right. I was shaking when his lips left mine, knowing even without the link that he was as desperate for me as I was for him.

"No," The word dragged painfully from his throat, taking a step back from me. "No, not yet. It's not time. Go to your own bunk tonight, Little One. C'Baoth is gone from this ship. You are safe from at least one danger. "

I gaped at him incredulously. "You're throwing me out?"

He rewarded me with that smile, the one I Ioved so much, the one that lit up his face. "Never," he replied, tapping his temple with a finger. "You are never out of my thoughts now. Merely out of my presence for a time. Now go, I need to consider things."

I was ushered out the door, my mouth still hanging open when it closed behind me.

* * *

When the dreams claimed me that night, curled up in my own cold sheets, there was no comforting presence to whisper me back to sleep. I dreamed of Thrawn and the planets, of the three of us in his palm. I dreamed his victory. I dreamed his death. Only this time, it was Reese and Tam that feel into the darkness. This time the dream shifted around me into something more.

This time Captain Pellaeon reached down frantically and caught the chain around my wrist. He pulled me up out of the darkness, wreathed in his golden flames, his phoenix wings as bright as ever. There were more dark brown spots of loss on those wings this time, but it never diminished his splendor. Regardless of such loss, and perhaps more than anyone on this ship, he would endure. He would move on to greater glories than any of us could imagine.

"Now is not the time for bravery," Pellaeon whispered, his lips never moving but his voice carrying to me all the same. "Save you loyalties for those who are worthy of them."

We stood on the shores of my dreamscape, staring at one another. And all around us, worlds rose and fell, lives were born, grew old, and died in rapid succession. But we remained the same, the siren and the phoenix, constant as the stone face of a mountain.

_I need you here on the _Chimaera_ with me, _Thrawn's voice echoed around us, coming from everywhere and nowhere. A_nd I need you to be able to work with Captain Pellaeon with the same determination and loyalty…_

I woke with a strangled sob, feeling Tam and Reese flooding my thoughts with worry. Because Tam had seen the nightmares finally, watched them through our link. Because Reese was feeling the tiniest speck of regret for tossing me from his room, letting the nightmares take me again.

_Stars, Ari! Why didn't you tell me?_

I didn't have it in me to answer Tam's question. Just as I couldn't help but stare at Pieterson's sleeping form on the bunk next to mine. He has his back to me, his body a barely indistinguishable shadow against the darkness of ship's night. But to me it looked like he was covered with a black shroud, one that I couldn't save him from.


	16. Chapter 16 - Gathering Storm

A/N: Thank you all for the reviews and private messages. Saying it again as always because the support always helps. Writing an Empire-centric story isn't the most popular thing to do, but I think the people who make up those ranks deserve to have their stories told, too. Espeically those that were the unknown supporting cast to men like Thrawn and Pellaeon. :) Which, incidently, they are going to take center stage in the next two chapters and run over everyone else from then on.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

Tam was angry.

I bit back a sigh, staring down at my breakfast without real enthusiasm. There was a mental wall in my head that shouldn't be there, a towering structure that had bricks made of resentment and mortar made of hurt. And it ringed that part of my thoughts that I had reserved for one Calim Tam. No matter how I knocked timidly or blustered in rage, that tower would not yield. Nor would a door open to allow me access. Not even a tiny window through which I could stream a small whisper of apology.

I was locked out, cut off from my best friend. It was enough to make me nauseous.

I pushed the eggs around my plate with my fork, glancing up beneath my eyelashes across the mess hall to the table where Tam and Megga Tarn sat, enjoying their companionable meal. I tried to tell myself that the only reason Tam was sitting with her today was to gauge her mental state, to ensure we didn't accidently do more harm than good. I didn't blame him for that, not with the nightmares of how spectacularly we failed before tag-teaming my dreams about our Admiral and Captain.

So far Megga had shown no evidence of what we'd done to her the night before, no memory that we had ever been in her head. In contrast, she was back to her nearly overly cheerful self. And even with the wall between us, I could almost hear her words through Tam's ears. Muted though they were, they were all about some bit of engineering lore she'd picked up recently. And Tam dutifully listened, interjecting comments here and there as appropriate, laughing or smiling.

My hand curled around my fork until I felt the metal biting into my palm. I wasn't nauseous, I amended furiously. I was jealous.

He was my best friend! And I knew he liked her well enough, had even thought of starting a romance with her before this Force business had redirected our plan from keeping our heads down to what we were doing now. But he had never been so… animated… when speaking with her before. Maybe it was because she was finally free of C'Baoth's taint and he felt he could trust her now? Or maybe, I thought blackly, he was doing it because he knew it would make me seethe inside. I thrust that last thought away. Calim Tam was many things, but he wasn't a jerk. He wouldn't hurt me because I'd hurt him. It wasn't in his nature.

Which made watching him and Megga laugh over breakfast that much more painful.

"I thought you were committed to the Lieu," Kann Torre said softly beside me, drawing my attention back to the table.

I was seated as was my new routine, in the general mess hall Slums, sharing a table with two ranked members of Reese's unit. Today it was Kann Torre and Dabu Chib. Both had reappeared finally from wherever Reese had stashed them since Kalkins death, taking up their usual duties as if nothing had happened. Well, not completely as if nothing had happened. There was gloominess to them now that hadn't been there before, a shadow of grief that overlaid the usual dark sarcastic humor that was the hallmark of Reese's team. But their presence was reassuring in its own odd little way.

I gave myself a shake. "What?"

Torre inclined his head towards Tam. "You're staring at Crewman Tam again. What's the deal between the two of you? I thought you were rivals or something."

I looked back at my eggs. "Oh, that's pretty accurate," I said with bitterness. "He's nursing a grudge against me at the moment."

Torre and Chib exchanged a glance, and I realized a little too late what I'd said.

"No," I said quickly, laying a hand on Torre's arm and squeezing. "It's not that kind of grudge. He has no intentions of hurting me. He's… dammit, it's complicated. But it's not something you have to worry about. It's Fleet stuff. Professional Fleet stuff. It's not personal."

I felt some of the tension fade from Torre's arm, and I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd held. "So long as it stays that way," Chib said around a mouth full of egg. "I like you, Idelas. I like what you do for our Lieu. He's a better man when you're around, no doubt. But he's our Lieutenant."

He let the unspoken threat hang in the air. Basically if I were to hurt Reese, to say, leave him for some wimpy little Fleet Child in their minds, I wasn't just going to be blackballed from their group. I was going to find life on the _Chimaera_ a lot harder than I ever had before. Apparently there were more unspoken rules about relationships between military personnel than there were about the hidden-not-so-hidden Sabbac games.

I slanted a look at Torre and lifted my eyebrows at Chib. "First off, Reese is a big boy and doesn't need his best friends to inflict unwanted relationship advice on his girl. Secondly, while I do appreciate the loyalty to him, my relationship with Reese is just that—mine and his. If we decide to call it off, then we'll decide to do that. That's none of your concern."

"And the Little One grows fangs," Makko Vyns tossed in amusedly, dropping his tray down across from me, next to Chib. "I win that bet, boys and girls. Enough time with the Lieu will turn anyone into an animal."

That earned chuckles from Torre and Chib, and a glare from me. A glare that faded under the humor of that back-handed complement. "And what was the betting pool this time?"

"That you would be the next in a long line of notches on the Lieu's bedpost," Vyns said without missing a beat. "The fact that you're still here means there's a lot more to you than the usual. Pay up, you two. I said this one was a keeper, and I was right."

Torre and Chib wordlessly handed over credit sticks, which Vyns in turn pocketed with a wide grin.

My face darkened a bit at that, which earned more chuckles. Reese was a playboy like Vyns? I never would have figured him for that, not with the lack of sheet-warming going on between us. But was that his MO? Was I really just a fling for… I stopped that line of thought abruptly. Especially when I felt Reese's link with me start to open, felt him begin to hesitate in giving his report to General Covell, feeling my uncertainty. I slammed our link closed, burying my moments of doubt in his loyalty to me. With the bond growing between the three of us, I would have been able to pick up on the notion that I was just a toy.

No, things ran deeper between us than something casual. I was sure of it, regardless of the ribbing his men were giving me.

Vyns took my hand in his, jarring me back to the present. "Hey, little one, I was paying you a complement. I've never seen the Lieu more engaged in another woman before, especially one in uniform. I believe he's hung up his playboy days."

I forced a smile, trying to get my head back into the conversation as it were. "Unlike you?"

That smile was back on his lips, a wide flashy thing that I had seen melt the hearts of many an unsuspecting female crewer. "I'm a bachelor to the end of my days. There isn't a woman alive that can keep my interest for very long."

"Funny, that's what the Lieu said once upon a time," Torre put in innocently, canting his head in my direction. "Look what happened to him."

Vyns narrowed his eyes. "I've killed men for saying less offensive things to me, Torre."

"Very true," the other countered effortlessly, as if that frightening look from Vyns had no weight to it. "And I've also seen you pay up when you're proven absolutely wrong, too."

"And what's that supposed to mean, exactly?"

"That one day some woman like Little One, here, will blast the heart right out of your chest."

"Never happen," Vyns said adamantly. "I'm wedded to my career."

"You really think so?"

"I know so."

"Do I hear a wager coming on?" Chib laughed.

"Absolutely," both men said at the same time.

Vyns leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. "So what's the terms?"

"Do I really need to be here for this?" I asked, watching as Tam and Megga stood, passing their trays off to a serving droid. If I hurried, I might be able to corner Tam before shift began. I really didn't want to try and focus on my work with this wall in my thoughts.

"Yes," Vyns said sharply. "Rule number thirty-four of our unit, Little One. Once a wager has been laid, no one leaves until it's been witnessed." He turned back to Torre. "Again, what's the terms?"

Torre ran a hand over his clean-shaven jaw as if considering. "You have two weeks to get Dr. Ashta Flores to bed you," he said at last. "And then you have to keep her for at least a month."

Chib whistled between his teeth and Vyns frowned. "A doctor," he murmured. "That's a dangerous game. I never bed the medical staff."

"Why?" I couldn't believe I just asked that.

"Because you never known when you'll be under their laser scalpel," Chib supplied helpfully. "Not that I'd expect any woman to kill me on the table, but I wouldn't put it past a jilted lover to make recovery from surgery a living nightmare."

I snerked a bit at that, mostly because it was true. How many times had I imagined knocking Reese into traction before he and I became serious? Too many, and that was the honest truth.

"What do I get if I win?" Vyns asked.

"Aside from the true love of a beautiful and intelligent woman? Well, I'll handle your reporting details for a month."

"Make it two months."

"Done. But only if you do the same after you admit your failure to capture the Ice Queen of the Med Bay."

The two reached across the table and bumped fists together. Chib placed his hand over them. "So witnessed."

And then the three stared at me expectantly. I sighed, placing my hand above Chib's. "So witnessed," I muttered. "I can't believe I'm now a party to this."

Their laughter followed me as I picked up my tray and headed for the door. I passed Pieterson at his usual table, eating alone as he had since our fight in the work out area. Stars, it felt like a lifetime ago instead of a mere two months. He didn't bother to look up, to nod an acknowledgement to a superior officer as I passed. I let it go. He was still angry, too, furious at Reese for nearly killing him so easily. Furious at me for allowing it. Furious at the universe.

It made me afraid for him.

* * *

Tam was stone-faced when I stepped into the lift that would take us to the bridge. Even his nod to my rank was stiff and overly formal. I nodded back, mostly to cover the slight flinch at his greeting. That towering wall was still present between us, still as impenetrable as ever. I sighed aloud and keyed for the lift to stop.

That got through to him.

"What are you doing?" he asked, startled. "We'll be late. And unlike you, I don't have an Admiral's good graces to hide behind."

I let my gaze frost over, and my tone. To hide the hurt that that verbal remark had caused. I wasn't the "Admiral's Pet" and he bloody well knew it. "That was uncalled for. It was a low blow, and you know it."

His expression took on a sour note. "Maybe," he said at last. "But it's a truth."

"Truth? You mean unlike the truth that I've been keeping from you, is that what you want to say?" He wouldn't look at me, and that hurt more than any sour expression, than any wall between us. "_Kriff_, Cal, I'm sorry, okay? Please look at me. Please _talk_ to me. I… stars, I can't go out there and deal with the Admiral's gaze, and the Captain's stare, and, hell, the looks of my own team right now if we're fighting. I need something solid to hold onto, and you've been that for me ever since we met here in this very lift."

"Then why the secrets?" he demanded. "Why not tell me about these dreams? For all we know they could contain clues as to what we should do next."

I reached up to run my hands through my hair in frustration, paused as my fingertips touched my uniform cap. I couldn't afford to look slovenly, not before walking out onto the bridge. Captain Pellaeon would hang me for sure.

"Do you hear yourself right now, Cal? I mean, they could just be dreams. Nothing more."

He fixed me with that same look Reese had used, as if I was being dense on purpose. Only this time, I was. "Okay, fine," I sighed, shoving my hands behind my back out of nothing else to do with them. "I'm sorry. I should have told you."

He wasn't budging, that wall still in place. "Did you tell Reese?"

My flinch was all the answer he needed.

Tam shook his head, lips pursed so tightly I was afraid he was going to swallow them. "I don't know what to say to you right now, Ari. It's like every time we make two strides forward, something happens and we take three strides back. Maybe we shouldn't keep the link open all the time. Maybe… maybe we just need some space."

"No."

He lifted his eyebrows, anger simmering behind his eyes. "Excuse me? Last time I checked, you weren't my senior officer. You don't get to give orders or make decisions for the both of us."

And then I had it. Then it clicked. That last statement about someone making decisions for someone else put it all into perspective. "This isn't about me and you, or the dreams. It's about Reese," I spat out accusingly. "You're… jealous."

"I am not," he snapped back, face flushing. "Ari, I love you as a sister. Forgive me for saying it, but I'm not inter—"

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Oh, and you're not jealous of my spending time with someone else, either?" he shot back. "Don't bother denying it. I felt you when you watched Megga and me this morning. I knew your emotions plain as day."

My eyebrows tried to merge with my hairline. "You spied on me? You all but flirted with Megga on purpose just to get a rise out of me?"

"Spying?" he gave a sardonic chuckle. "You practically screamed it across the Force, Ari."

That hurt, and he'd meant it to hurt. "Whatever," I whispered hotly, turning away before the tears started to form. "Maybe you're right. Maybe we need some time apart. We've been living in each other's heads for too long. We're bound to run into issues."

He sighed, his own shame at his actions cracking fissures into his mental wall, and I felt that tower come down slowly, brick by brick. "Ari," he put a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean… dammit, I'm the one who is sorry this time."

I shrugged off his touch, rather unkindly much to my own chagrin, keying the lift to move again. Trying to block the shipload of hurt that drifted between us. Failing. "No, it's fine. I wronged you. You wronged me. We're even."

"No we're not," he threw back, a touch of horror in his tone. "That's not you and me. That's not how we ever interact. And that's not how we are going to start now. Ari, please, let's talk about this."

No, it was how Reese's men interacted. Torre and Vyns just earlier that morning had had a serious argument, I realized, right in front of me. An argument couched in their trademark predatory playfulness. Serious to the point that Vyns hadn't been joking when he'd made that threat to Torre. But then Torre had landed a few verbal blows of his own, and the two had resorted to a test of strength, a bet of terms, to settle their argument. Would Cal and I resort to such things? Was I already heading down that path?

I shook my head. Now wasn't the time for doubts. Not when I had a full shift ahead of me. "We're going to be on the bridge in under ten seconds. We should be ready."

His hand hesitated, hovering above my shoulder before he sighed, letting it fall back to his side. "I suppose we should."

The doors parted, and we stepped forward as we always had, with nary a sign that anything had taken place in that lift. He went to his station. I went towards mine. It had been five days since C'Baoth had left, and for those blessed five days, I was able to perform my duties with my team. To do my job in peace without so much as a glance from my Captain and Admiral. I should be rejoicing in the prospect of losing myself to routine work.

But I couldn't resist a final thought, a final feeling of dread. _Cal, are we really fighting?_

I felt him swallow. _I guess we are._

_We shouldn't._

_I know that. But that doesn't change the fact that we are._

_Do you… do you think we'll recover?_

_What kind of talk is that? Of course we'll recover. You're my best friend, Ari. Hard to believe that two months can define a friendship like that, but there it is. I've never been closer to another person, and I think that's why it cuts so deeply that you would keep secrets from me, but tell them to Reese instead._

_It was never my intention to tell anyone, Cal. Not even Reese. He just happened to be there when I called out in my sleep._

_That makes it worse, Ari. How many times do I have to tell you that keeping secrets could kill us all?_

It was effort that kept my face neutral as I walked the length of the crew pit, as I observed the crewers at their stations in the absence of my officer. Today was my first day filling in for my Ensign while he was undergoing training of his own. I drew on every bit of knowledge I had gleaned from my time with the Admiral, every ounce of icy control and proper decorum, pouring it all into my performance.

Using it to keep from showing any emotion at all.

_I… look I can't get into it right now," _I sent_. "I need to focus. But after shift, we'll talk. Just you and I, okay? Please, you have to give me a chance to make this right._

_Fine. After shift. Our usual place. _

_Oh, and if your officer gives you grief about being late, tell him that I detained you. It's the truth. And taking a reprimand is the least I can do right now. Please?_

_Okay. And Ari? Good luck today. You earned this chance at command. Regardless of our personal fight, I'm proud of you._

We muted the link between us, and I felt anything but okay with how that ended.

* * *

"Very good, Crewman," Lieutenant Tschel commended, reading over my report. "Your work is precise and detailed. Your officer should be proud."

"Ensign Colclazure takes his training and crewers seriously," I responded formally, standing at full attention. Trying not to sweat under his gaze. Though I was watching the stations of my officer, I was still being babysat as it were by the junior bridge officers. "It has been a pleasure to serve under him."

Tschel gave a tight smile, one that reminded me of Captain Pellaeon. "I'm sure it has been, Crewman. I have one final objective for you today before you are dismissed. Take this report to Admiral Thrawn."

Nothing could have stopped the slight blanch I made at that. Thankfully, Tschel misinterpreted it. He leaned in as he handed me the other data pad. "Deep breaths, Crewman," he coached. "You have worked with the Admiral before. Even though you are now speaking with your officer's authority, this is no different. Hand him the report and leave when he dismisses you."

I swallowed and nodded. Letting the man think what he wanted to think. It wasn't the Admiral that had me fluttering right now, but the Captain. And the fact that I would have to cross into those ysalamiri bubbles. There was no way I could walk across the command walkway without touching one or two of them. And dodging something that could not be seen by others wasn't going to win me any points.

"Yes, sir, I said. "Thank you, sir."

I made my way to the command station, trying not to flinch each time I crossed through the dead zones. Trying to not hate the fact that I could see the bubbles now without putting much effort into it. Just another thing that the Admiral had forced me to learn that I didn't understand. What was the point? Why was it so vital for me to understand the relationship of ysalamir and the Force? I pushed that thought away when I reached the command station, standing at attention, waiting for permission to enter.

"You have something for me, Crewman?" Admiral Thrawn stated smoothly, not bothering to turn his chair or look up from his displays.

"Yes, sir. Reports from the probes left in the Athega system, sir."

"Excellent. Please relay them to Captain Pellaeon."

"Yes, sir," I turned, glancing at where my Captain sat, trying to keep from thinking of the dream. He let me stand there at full attention while he finished whatever it was he was working on, and turned cool eyes in my direction. "Information from the Admiral, sir."

"Yes, Crewman, I can see that," he said, voice just as cold as his eyes. "Dismissed."

I turned quickly, trying to not look like I was turning quickly. To not look like I was fleeing the command station. Just another officer doing her duty, another neutral face above a crewman's jumpsuit. Nothing special. Nothing to dream about. Nothing to worry over.

"A moment, Crewman," Thrawn commented, and this time I couldn't hide the flinch.

I smoothed my features quickly, turning to face him. "Sir?"

He was fiddling with a data card, absently flipping it between his fingers. Measuring me as he always did with his gaze. Apparently he saw what he wanted to see, because he extended that card to me. "I want you to review this data and tell me what you think."

I took the card, inwardly sighing. So much for meeting Cal after shift. "I'll make it a priority, sir."

"Don't go that far, Crewman. I want you to take your time with it, and report when you are ready. That is all. Dismissed."

I pocketed the card, heading for the lift. For the first time in a long while, Cal met me there. And for the first time ever, it didn't bring a smile to my face.


	17. Chapter 17 - Shattered

A/N: This chapter made me cry to write. I had been putting it off for so long, but here we are at long last. This one is definitely for the Pellaeon fans out there, and for the Luke Skywalker fans, too! Thanks as always for the reviews and private messages. :D

Disclaimer: ***SPOILER ALERT FOR ANYONE THAT HASN'T READ HEIR TO THE EMPIRE*** The death of Pieterson and 95% of the dialogue between Thrawn, Pieterson, and Colclazure is taken completely from Heir. You have been warned. :P It belongs to Timothy Zahn and Star Wars. I own nothing save for my OCs.

* * *

We never got to have our little talk.

Tam's officer summoned him back to the bridge before the lift ever reached the abandoned level. Frustration echoed across our link, and I placed a hand on his shoulder before I knew I was doing it. My fingers squeezed, sympathy spilling from me to him. He sighed, hand closing over mine for a long minute.

"Later," he promised, reluctantly letting go. "When duty doesn't stand in the way."

I gave him a lopsided smile in return. "Don't promise on the absence of duty. We'll never be free of that, Cal. Promise instead on the hope that we have a free moment again soon."

He nodded, and the link echoed with the unspoken words we needed so much to say to each other. Silence lingered, filled with those emotions, until Tam finally shook himself. "I need to go, Ari. I'll see you tonight. Maybe we can talk for a while before we sleep."

I stepped out of the lift on the next available floor, watching as the doors closed and took my best friend from me again. Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair. A long shift was always tiring, but I was too keyed up to sleep. That oppressive feeling was back, like there should be storm clouds above my head. The air, itself, felt heavy with the promise of violence. And for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why.

Nor could I shake the fact that it had everything to do with Pieterson. Something bad was going to happen, something that I wanted to stop with all of my being. And I wasn't the only one that felt it, I realized. Reese had walled himself away behind a thick sheet of durasteel. Smooth and impenetrable. But I could still sense his feelings, sense the fact that he prowled the ship once more like a wild animal looking to strike.

At least Tam and I had had our argument with each other to mask that feeling of doom. Now that that was out of the way… for the most part… I couldn't help but feel the urgent need to do something.

Anything.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was back in the lift. "Bridge," I called out. One of the things that Ensign Colclazure had taught me was to trust my instincts. Right now those instincts told me something horrible was coming, was focused on my section of the bridge. Given that I had run the shift today, would it really be so out of place for me to do one final check before heading to dinner?

Yes. No. Hell if I knew.

Walking onto the bridge this time was a new experience. For one, it was the first time that I wanted to be there—willingly. For another, I was free to come and go as I pleased. I wasn't stuck to a station. And C'Baoth wasn't present to irritate the crap out of everyone else. It felt… good, surprisingly. Felt right to walk down into that crew pit. To nod to Lieutenant Tschel, the duty officer on shift, on the command walkway as I passed.

"Forget something, Crewman?" he asked.

"No, sir," I replied. "At least, I hope not. I wanted to do one last check before heading out for the night."

He gave a slight smile. "First time command nerves," he chuckled softly. "We all experience them, Crewman. I've read your report already. Your section is fine. But if you feel the need to double check your work, do so."

In the end, he was right. The crewers were performing their work above and beyond standards. Even Crewman Ford addressed me with crisp and proper answers to my questions. All was performing as it should. All was well, as the saying went.

Until I noticed that Pieterson wasn't at his station. And the weight of that forbidding storm crashed back down on my shoulders. I ran a hand over the empty seatback, frowning darkly at the tremble in my fingers. Why was I afraid all of a sudden? Not for myself this time, but for him? Surely he would be released from the brig shortly. He would be back at his station soon. At the very least, they would transfer him to another ship where he would fit in better, like the Admiral had offered to me, right?

Somehow that thought wasn't as calming as it should have been.

"Crewman Idelas, may I ask what it is that you are doing?"

I jumped in spite of myself, and came to full attention when my heels touched the floor. Staring up at Captain Pellaeon where he stood on the command walkway. Staring down at me, face unreadable. "Double checking my work, sir," I said instantly. "I have checked in with the duty officer and obtained clearance."

"Yes, I know," he frowned slightly. "What I don't know is why you are staring at an empty station."

Worry for Pieterson kept the blush from rising to my cheeks. "Concern for the function of this unit, sir," I replied, honestly. "A missing man could tip the balance in a battle. I would not see my unit make the kind of mistakes that lead to disasters like at the battle of Hoth."

His frown compressed into a thin line, those dark eyes calculating as they swept over me. "Your officer has taught you the tactics of pivotal rebellion battles, I see."

"Yes, sir."

"And what have you learned from that battle?"

"That had the ships not come out of lightspeed so close to the system, the rebellion would not have been able to damage the lead Star Destroyer with ion cannon fire. Thereby allowing the tractor beam stations to function at optimal efficiency. Which would have led to a capture of at least thirty percent of the fleeing ships."

Those eyes glittered, and beneath his moustache, his mouth twitched. "Very good, Crewman," he said, almost begrudgingly. "That is at least a part of the lessons learned from that encounter."

"Thank you, sir."

"Carry on with your inspection."

"Yes, sir. Uh, sir?" He stopped, glanced back down at me. "I… may I speak freely, sir?"

His eyebrows drew together, a promise of trouble if I was wasting his time, but he nodded nonetheless. "Granted."

"Sir, are we heading into battle? I feel like we are, that something dangerous is coming. I would be remiss in my duties if I didn't address this to a senior officer."

The eyebrows drew down further, and I knew I had overstepped my bounds. Big time. But I couldn't stop myself from asking. That invisible storm roiled above my head, the pressure becoming too much to bear.

"I am not in the habit of discussing battle plans with those outside of the senior command staff, Crewman," he said, a snap to his tone that definitely let me know I had overstepped myself. But then he lowered his voice, and some of the sting went with it. "I understand your concern, Crewman Idelas. It shows progress in your training. However, leave decisions above your rank to those qualified to make them. Follow your orders as you are told. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir."

He turned and left. He hadn't said we were heading into battle soon, I realized, but then again he hadn't denied it, either. I watched him go, and was very glad of the empty station in front of me. Because for a moment, a precious moment, I saw the fiery wings appear on his back. Saw the brown ash that flecked them. I reached out a hand to steady myself on the seat.

* * *

I learned all too soon why Tam had been recalled to the bridge. I, myself, was asked into a meeting with Ensign Colcalzure and the rest of our team before I had left the bridge for the second time. A training exercise was planned for the morning, he explained, and each member of our team was expected to perform better than we had before. Something about capturing a freighter and holding it precisely at a specific angle with the tractor beams, or so was to be our part in that exercise.

It didn't set well with me. Why were we using live fire and a real ship for this kind of drill? Surely the simulators could provide this kind of training without the waste of materials and energy. When I'd voiced that, Ensign Colclazure admitted that this specific test had been ordered by the Grand Admiral, himself.

Translation: Shut up. Do as you are told. Perform better than perfect.

My dreams that night were more than unpleasant. I woke screaming several times, much to the annoyance of the rest of the people in the barracks. Neither Reese nor Tam could whisper me back to sleep, their thoughts sliding around my terror and falling uselessly to the side. I kept dreaming about the bridge flowing with blood. No one could see it except for me. It was everywhere, flooding the crew pits until it was up to my waist.

Grand Admiral Thrawn stood beside me, though somehow the blood never touched his uniform. I begged him for help, to stop the blood and the terror. Impassively, as if I hadn't just screamed at him, he took my wrist in his hand and fastened that silver cuff to it. The one that lead to the matching ring on his little finger, connecting us with a delicate length of silver chain that was stronger than durasteel.

And in that blood floated a body, one that the Admiral would not let me touch. A simple wave of his hand pulled the chain taunt, snapping me to his side. The body rolled over, floated face up as it passed us. Bearing the face of Cris Pieterson.

* * *

I was pale when I arrived at my station, so much so that Colclazure nearly stopped me, ordered me to sick bay instead. It took all the goodwill I had built up with him to change his mind. And even then he warned me that if I looked in the slightest like I was about to pass out, he'd throw me off the bridge so hard I would bounce twice when I landed in the turbolift.

I took my station next to Pieterson, the other not bothering to glance my way. What looked like a permanent sneer turned his mouth. Whatever had happened to him in the brig hadn't been pleasant. I made a note to corner the man after shift and force him to tell me what happened, what had made him so… angry. Angry enough to start a fight with a senior officer. But his fingers were working smoothly on his board, and I joined in with the flow of the work, becoming one with my team.

In spite of the fact that I felt like I was wading through that sea of blood, that my wrist kept tingling with the feeling of that silver cuff.

_Stop it,_ Tam sent gently. _Ari, it was a dream. Let it go._

_I can't. Something is going to happen today. I can feel it. So can you._

_Yes. But obsessing about it isn't going to help anyone. Focus on your tasks._

Reese sent barely a blip of feeling, but I could tell it was in agreement with Tam. Reese felt what we all felt, like the hull was going to suddenly peel off the ship and toss us all into hard vacuum at any second. He had taken to muting his part of our link, refusing to let these "Force feelings" as he called them, impact his work. He was a stormtrooper before he was a Force sensitive. And that was exactly how he preferred it.

I bent my head to my task, keeping a lock on the practice freighter outside the _Chimaera's_ viewports. Watching through my station as the gunners on the main turbolazer batteries systematically flash-boiled the older ship's plating into plasma…

… until the storm in my head broke. Metaphysical thunder rumbling in the form of a proximity alarm going off.

"Unknown fighter emerging from hyperspace," someone called. "Vector seven six point oh five. It looks like a New Republic ship, X-wing class."

"Track it," Captain Pellaeon ordered.

"Starboard tractor beam," Ensign Colclazure said, crossing over to stand behind and between Pieterson and I. "Stand ready in case the ship makes it passed port side and over into our jurisdiction."

"Yes, sir," I answered. Pieterson said nothing.

But that wasn't the only problem at the moment. Worse than Pieterson's sudden ambivalence to our senior officer, the link with Tam had gone all fuzzy. And it was then that I realized that he wasn't doing it on purpose. He was doing it because he was trying to figure out something in the Force. In the middle of a kriffing battle!

_What are you doing?_ I demanded

No reply.

_Cal! Answer me. What is going on? Now isn't the time for this!_

_Who are you? _A new voice, so quiet as if being heard over a great distance, filtered into my thoughts.

_I'm Calim Tam,_ Tam was saying. _Who are you?_

_I'm Luke Skywalker. Were you the one that contacted me above Nkllon?_

I felt my mouth go dry.

_CAL, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! STOP! HE'S A REBEL! HE'S OUR ENEMY!_ I screamed.

I felt Skywalker wince, and as a consequence a stray shot nearly scored a hole into the canopy of his X-wing. _Please do not yell. I am not going to hurt you. I'm not your enemy. Why… why are you serving the Empire?_

_Because we're Imperials!_ I shot back, fumbling in my pocket for a data card and slotting it into my station. All that research on Organa Solo and her brother was going to finally come in handy. I split the screen, brushing up on Skywalker's known tactics and favorite maneuvers in recorded battles. _And Cal, you shouldn't be talking to him._

_Enough, Ari,_ Tam cut in. _Skywalker, yes, we are Imperials but not by choice. At least, most of us aren't. You have to get away and quickly. And stay away from the man that contacted you on Nkllon. His name is Joruus C'Baoth and he's a dark Jedi. Stay away. You don't want him to touch your mind._

And then Tam did the one thing I could never forgive him for: he gave Skywalker a full download of how we had saved Ensign Tarn, and how we had failed with Ensign Orn. Sharing everything from our link to how Reese had possessed the ability to heal down to how I could amplify power. I was stunned, flabbergasted. My fingers moving over my control board in reflex only. Otherwise I would have stared in mute horror.

Even then, I couldn't stop myself from rising to my feet this time, staring across the bridge in the direction of my obviously now-insane best friend.

I felt Skywalker grit his teeth at the mental bombardment. _You aren't trained in how to combat darkness like that. The three of you should stop what you are doing. Seek me out. I'll help you._

_Like hell! _I snapped. _You're a Jedi. And we all know what Jedi did to the Senate. No way am I going to trust you!_

Sorrow leaked through from him, and annoyance from Tam. Reese was oddly silent in my head, listening and measuring, weighing the words of the conversation.

_Ari, enough, I said! We need help and he's the best option we have to combat C'Baoth before he kills us all._

_He just said he wouldn't help us, Cal._

_I didn't exactly say that,_ Skywalker replied, his voice going silent for a moment as he executed a complicated turn. Bringing him around the side of the _Chimaera.._. and into my range. I sat down swiftly, fingers flying with renewed vigor across my board. Determined to trap him, to capture this so-called Jedi.

_Ari!_ Tam screamed, horrified at the track my thoughts were taking.

_NO! You said you wanted to talk to him? Fine, you can do that. When he's in custody. Those are our orders, in case _you_ forgot just what our tasks were today._

_Ari,_ Skywalker tried. _You don't want to do this. They won't let you talk to me. Your friend is right. We can talk some other time. But I need to be free for that to happen._

_No thank you,_ I replied tartly. _I've had enough of Jedi between C'Baoth and your sister crawling into my painting._

He started in surprise, and I knew without seeing that his head wrenched to the side, his eyes focusing on the _Chimaera_, right where I was seated. _That was you?_ He asked softly_. Leia mentioned the contact to me. You were the girl with the painting. She wants to talk to you again. Ari, you have no idea what—_

_So. Not. Happening. REBEL!_

I slapped switches and controls, trying to pin him with a beam. Which was harder than it sounded, considering we were in each other's heads. He knew where the beam was going to hit just as I knew where he was thinking of turning. The result was he was always just a nanosecond ahead of me, his Jedi reflexes giving him that slight edge. And that was the most frustrating of all. I couldn't let him go, not if it meant my family would suffer for it.

As much as I considered myself an Imperial at heart, I was still a conscript in the eyes of the upper levels of the Fleet. And that meant they could and would hurt my family to get to me if I failed.

Skywalker caught some of that, and the understanding and sympathy that he sent my way was enough to have me wanting to strangle him myself. He didn't get to play the martyr! He didn't get to empathize with my situation! He was the poster boy for the very reason I was here. If the rebellion hadn't happened, I would be safe on my home. I wouldn't be in uniform, running from nightmares and dark Jedi and Grand Admirals and Captains that twisted me up inside.

Through all of this, Skywalker and I danced, his X-wing dipping out of my grasp and my tractor beam making it impossible for him to get away. And still he tried to reason with me, sending his empathy in my direction.

Until finally the _Chimaera _opened up its full turbolazer batteries and Skywalker had no choice but to run into my range.

I caught him, saw the lock engage—and then snarled again as he fed more power into his engines instead of shutting them down like any sane, normal person would do. The result was his trajectory widening, turning his straight-line vector into a sinuous curve that was too wide for me to contain with a single beam. There wasn't enough time or distance to stop his momentum. It was either pass his lock to Pieterson or crash him into the side of the ship. Effectively killing him and whomever happened to be in that slice of the _Chimaera._

That shook me out of my rage. I didn't want the man dead. I just didn't want Tam to get into trouble talking to him. And I didn't want anything to do with the false hope that Skywalker instilled in me.

_But it's not false, Ari,_ Skywalker said. _Think on it. Really think on it. And you'll contact me when you both are ready. In the meantime, I'll do what I can to protect your family._

He left our conversation, and no amount of mental pleading on Tam's part could draw him back. I gritted my teeth in frustration, passing the link over to Pieterson as procedure required. Realizing too late when I saw the man grin widely at me that it was the worst thing I could have ever done.

* * *

The horror I felt was worth an ocean of blood, and I was vaguely surprised that I wasn't drowning in it. I didn't need a mirror to show me that I was deathly pale. The faces around me reflected the same, including Ensign Colclazure. The bridge had gone quiet, no one willing to speak or move any more than was necessary. All except for Pieterson. He sat with a touch of a smug smile on his face. It made me want to vomit.

Skywalker had escaped. And it had been our fault.

_Ari_, Tam whispered, as if even through our bond we were too afraid of making a sound, as if somehow our non-verbal conversation would break the tentative peace and bring hell down upon us all. _Stars, Ari… What's… I mean, do you think this will pass over? Nothing has happened yet. The Admiral is just staring out that viewport. He isn't moving at all. _

_I don't know_, I whispered back, tears blurring my eyes. _We're all standing in blood up to our waists. It may not be there physically, but it's still there. The storm is here. And I don't know what direction it's going to take._

_Do you think Reese knows?_

I felt along that side of the link, running mental fingers over the smooth durasteel wall that was between us and whatever Reese was thinking or feeling. The wall was hot under my examination, blisteringly so. Burning me with his barely contained frustration and helpless rage.

_He's blocking us, Cal. Not because he wants to be away from us, but I think because he's trying to protect us. He's… angry… and scared. Scared on our behalf. _

_Stars! If he's scared then something is definitely going to happen._

_Do you really think there isn't? Skywalker escaped! This wasn't a drill. IT was a trap, a trap laid by the Admiral. It's all it could have been. I don't believe we coincidentally ran a drill in the exact path Skywalker was going to take on his way to Jomark, do you? I mean, why else would we have launched those probes on the outskirts of the Nkllon system? He was waiting for Skywalker, using that probe data to pick up Skywalker's hyperspace vector and get this little ambush in place! And… and now it's my team that let him go._

_Run, Ari. Just get up and run. Make some excuse about having to hit the 'fresher or something. Get out of there._

_And then what? Where would I hide then? Should I add shift abandonment to the list of failures?_

_I… I don't know. Kriff, I don't want to see you hurt! _

_It's a little late for that, Cal. Stars, Reese was right. Pieterson was going to go down in flames, and he's going to take me with him._

_No! We can think of something. Maybe I can feed you my power. Maybe you can convince him somehow that this wasn't—oh kriff, Ari. He's moving. He's heading in your direction!_

I didn't need any further confirmation. The sound of several sets of boots on the command walkway above us was all the proof I required. I took a deep breath, trying to compose my features. Diving head first into my painting, turning my fear and terror into living colors and throwing it all into the ocean. Turning the waters, I realized too late, a muddy reddish brown. As if I had mixed ashes and blood into the sea.

"Your name," Admiral Thrawn said from behind me and slightly to my right. Speaking in that excruciatingly calm tone.

"Cris Pieterson, sir," he answered, a touch of wariness in his tone.

Had Pieterson finally realized what he'd done in letting Skywalker escape? Had he finally come to his bloody senses too late?

"You were in charge of the tractor beam during our engagement with the starfighter." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes, sir—but what happened wasn't my fault."

Thrawn's eyebrows arched, just a bit. "Explain."

Pieterson started to gesture to the side, changed his mind in mid-motion. "The target did something with his acceleration compensator that killed his velocity vector—"

"I'm aware of the facts," Thrawn cut in. "I'm waiting to hear why his escape wasn't your fault."

Inside my painting, I shivered, and a dusting of reddish snow started to fall. Overhead the sky darkened, rumbled. The blackened clouds shattering like glass and reforming into an abstract that was alien and beautiful and complex beyond imagining. And it thundered so loud that I covered my ears in the painting. Thundered with a rage that wasn't Reese. Wasn't me. Wasn't Tam, either.

So carefully, oh stars, as carefully as I could, I poked at that abstract, that indefinable beauty above my head. Glowing red eyes peered back at me from the depths of the shattered clouds. Not seeing me, thank all the stars ever! Focused instead on the small figure in the distance of my blood-covered beach. The image of a man shackled to boulders made of his own arrogance. Gaunt and stick-thin, his soul a ghostly thing with needle teeth that ate his insides, swallowing the meat of his personality until all that remained was his frustration.

It was Pieterson chained to that rock. He was so tiny, so helpless beneath the power of that storm. And too far away for me to reach in time.

"I was never properly trained for such an occurrence, sir," Pieterson said, a flicker of defiance touching his eyes. "The computer lost the lock, but seemed to pick it up again right away. There was no way for me to know it had really picked up something else until—"

"Until the proton torpedoes detonated against the projector?"

Pieterson held his gaze evenly. "Yes, sir."

For a long moment Thrawn studied him. "Who is your officer?" he asked at last.

Pieterson's eyes shifted to the right. "Ensign Colclazure, sir."

Slowly, deliberately, Thrawn turned to the tall man standing rigidly at attention with his back to the walkway. "You are in charge of this man?"

In the painting, the storm shifted its focus, narrowing on a figure that appeared beside me. A man in armor made of shining gold. Head to foot he sparkled like something fine and good, even in the midst of the storm and the powdery snow-blood. It slid off his armor, never stained him. Like the blood that had never touched Admiral Thrawn in my dreams. I watched as Colclazure lifted the visor of his helmet and knelt down on one knee, offering up his sword—hilt first—to the power that raged above us.

In reality, Colclazure swallowed visibly. "Yes, sir," he said.

"Was his training also your responsibility?"

"Yes, sir," Colclazure said again.

"Did you, during that training, run through any scenarios similar to what just happened?"

The sword in his gauntleted hands shifted, the point aiming into the crease in his armor, ready to fall on it at a word from his supreme commander.

"I… don't remember, sir," the ensign admitted. "The standard training package _does _include scenarios concerning loss of lock and subsequent reestablishment confirmation."

Thrawn threw a brief glance back down at Pieterson. "Did you recruit him as well, Ensign?"

"No, sir. He was a conscript."

"Does that make him less worthy of your training time than a normal enlistee?"

"No, sir," Coclazure's eyes flicked to Pieterson. "I've always tried to treat my subordinates equally."

"I see," Thrawn considered a moment, then half turned to look past Pellaeon's shoulder. "Rukh."

I jumped physically at that, bumping my console and forcing my chair to scoot out slightly. It bumped into someone, and I jerked again, realizing it was Captain Pellaeon standing behind me. His hand landed on my chair back, and I braced for a glare that would turn my hair white with its intensity. But his eyes were focused on the tiny Noghri bodyguard that flowed with unearthly grace past him and to the Admiral's side.

My ocean flooded its shoreline, and the bloody waters swirled around us all. Until I was wading in it like in the dream. Dimly I was aware of Cal screaming at me from a distance, begging me to stop. But he was another distant figure running up the coast, bogged down by the rising tide of blood. And I knew. I knew why Pieterson wasn't in any of my other dreams. Why he never stood beside us in Thrawn's hand.

It was because he never survived long enough to join us.

I was up before I knew it, standing so swiftly and sharply at attention that I was surprised I didn't topple to the deck. "Sir," I said smartly. "This was my fault, sir. I initiated the lock, following the—"

"I am fully aware of your part in this, Crewman Idelas," Thrawn interrupted, enough frost in his tone that my ocean froze, trapping me in motionless blood to my waist. Unable to move. Unable to do anything more than stare. "You have been told that you have a promising future ahead of you by several of your superior officers. It would be a shame to mar that future with a permanent reprimand on your record. Now sit down."

The last sentence was quietly spoken and yet cracked through the bridge like a shout. A hand fisted into the shoulder of my jumpsuit from behind, yanking me back into my seat so hard I nearly bounced. It was Captain Pellaeon's hand, I realized.

"Now is not the time for bravery, Crewman," Pellaeon whispered, the words barely audible. "Save you loyalties for those who are worthy of them."

The dream! He'd said that to me in a dream! And in the painting, he was suddenly there. Phoenix wings wrapping around me as he stood over me, melting through the frozen blood and sheltering me from the stinging snow and wind. I couldn't help the way my hand reached back, clutched his, pleading silently for him to not let go.

Those glowing eyes watched me, flickering to Pellaeon before glancing back to me. Expression unreadable.

"Do you know the difference between an error and a mistake, Ensign?" Admiral Thrawn asked, turning back to Colclazure.

The entire bridge had gone deathly still. Colclazure swallowed again, his face starting to go pale. "No, sir."

"Anyone can make an error, Ensign. But that error doesn't become a mistake until you refuse to correct it." He raised a finger—

And, almost lazily, pointed.

I never saw Rukh move. And when Pieterson's blood sprayed in tiny droplets across my face, only my Captain's hand locked on my shoulder kept me from moving, from screaming in Pieterson's behalf. Because the kill had happened so swiftly, so perfectly, that he'd never had the time to scream. In my painting, the abstract descended from the sky like a vortex, ripping Pieterson to literal atoms in a whirlwind of shattered glass.

From farther down the crew pit came the sound of someone trying valiantly not to be sick. Thrawn glanced over Pellaeon's shoulder again and gestured, and the silence was further broken by the sound of a pair of stormtroopers coming forward.

"Dispose of it," the Grand Admiral ordered them, turning away from Pieterson's crumbled body and pinning Colclazure with a stare. "The error, Ensign," he told the other softly. "Has now been corrected. You may begin training a replacement."

Pellaeon's hand squeezed my shoulder once, letting go. Admiral Thrawn turned his attention towards me next, and extended a hand. "Your notes, Crewman Idelas."

I stared at his fingers dumbly, wondering what he could possibly mean. I hadn't had time to input all my notes from the conflict with Skywalker into a report. What could he possibly want? He took a deep breath, let it out through his nose. It seemed to me like a barely suppressed sigh of vexation. And in the painting, that vortex formed again, starting to dip down towards me—

And then I got it.

I spun my chair around, slapping switches with more force than I should have until my personal data card, the one containing all my notes on Skywalker and his sister, ejected from the console. My hand shook as I passed the card over.

"Thank you," he said, slipping the card into a belt pouch.

And he left our station as simply as that, calling for the Captain to provide a technical/tactical readout of the encounter with Skywalker.

The hand that touched my shoulder next belonged to Ensign Colclazure. And it shook every bit as much as mine. "Go clean yourself up, Idelas," he said, his voice passively under control. Barely trembling. "Report back in thirty minutes. Dismissed."

My legs almost couldn't carried me as I took the long way across the crew pit, having to step onto the command walkway to allow the stormtroopers and droids to clean up what was left of my onetime friends and comrade. As I stepped into the lift, I dared to glance up. Two sets of eyes watched me from the command station. One set glowing. The other coolly distant.

And in the painting, a single phoenix feather floated from the sky, landing in my palm.


	18. Chapter 18 - Falling

A/N: Thanks again for all the private messages and reviews! I know I promised that Thrawn and Pellaeon would take center stage and we have finally reached that part of the story. Yay! As ever, please let me know if I get him wrong. He's a hard character to pin down properly. ;)

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

Cris Pieterson was dead. And I had done nothing to stop it.

His blood on my face felt like acid, burning cold and furious, ignoring flesh and bone as it ate at my soul. I could feel it devouring me, swallowing my courage and self-control with each and every heartbeat. Any minute now I was going to lose it, was going to start screaming. And I had better be somewhere out of the public eye when that happened, or I was going to face worse than a reprimand for conduct unbecoming of an officer.

Emotional outbursts were one thing. Screaming dramatic breakdowns in the middle of a corridor were something else entirely.

My hand rose to my mouth at that thought, smearing the quickly cooling blood of my onetime friend further across my face, sickened to my core that I'd just thought that a reprimand was worse than giving vent to the pain in my heart. But the scream was stuck in my throat, lodged there by the discipline Ensign Colclazure had beaten into me. Frozen with fear that if I disobeyed my training, I would be the next one to feel that knife cutting my throat like it was warm butter.

Cris Pieterson was _dead_. And I had done nothing to stop it.

Reese and Tam were like twin battering rams inside my head, beating against the wall I'd thrown between us. Demanding to know if I was all right. Determined to assuage the guilt that was so strong in me that it bled across my wall until they were nearly drowning in it. But I couldn't let them in yet. I couldn't share my sorrow, or the thought that had come to me the moment those lift doors had closed, taking me away from the bridge and the horror of what had just happened there.

Cris Pieterson was dead. And _I_ had done nothing to stop it.

Some would have said that standing up to your Supreme Commander, that attempting to protect the man under your rank was definitely not nothing. But those were the people without our abilities, without our link. I could have drawn upon the Force to save Pieterson. I could have pulled on Reese and Tam until I practically bled them dry. Could have tried something at least in my painting. It had worked on Ensign Megga Tarn after all. I had literally painted her soul back into shape, my paintbrush like a living extension of the Force, itself.

But I had done none of that. It hadn't even crossed my mind to try and use the Force to stop Admiral Thrawn. Even now that thought was like anathema, and I cringed as if the mental suggestion was somehow transmitted to everyone on the ship. Any minute now a squad of troopers would appear and execute me for treason. Stupid, I know, but I couldn't shake the thought. I couldn't let go of my terror.

Cris Pieterson was dead. And I had done _nothing _to stop it.

No one was present in our barracks when I stumbled in the door, stripping out of my uniform and letting the blood-speckled thing stay where it landed. My fingers trembled as I activated the vibe shower, wishing so much that real water would come pouring out of the condenser instead of sonic waves. I needed to be immersed in clean water, to scrub my skin raw with a real sponge and soap. All I had was the generic cleansing fluid that was standard issue. And even that wasn't enough. When I passed my hand over the scanner, my allotted amount came out. No more. No less.

_Cris Pieterson was dead._

And I couldn't properly wash his blood from my body.

_Cris Pieterson was dead. _

Cris _was_ dead.

My _friend_ was… _dead_.

Dead… gone…

_**DEAD!**_

_**AND I. HAD. DONE. NOTHING!**_

The screams came next, started in my toes with a tingling sensation and rose up across my body, growing with intensity until my form quaked with pain, with the need to vent the awful hurt inside. I threw back my head and howled, finally understanding why Reese had wanted to be alone when Kalkins had died. Finally understanding so much about him, and about what I was becoming. And what I was powerless to stop.

Inside, I smashed the painting. Shattered it on the waves of my grief. I never wanted to see that beach again, to feel the sable palms or smell the salty deep blue waters. I didn't want the sky of clouds, the sugar sand beneath my feet. I wanted none of it. Cris Pieterson had died on that beach, destroyed by the quick glimpse of the Admiral that I'd accidently captured in my fear. I had no idea how I'd done it, how I'd pull him into the painting. And his mind had been so… alien. So… different that I could not capture it in relatable human terms. All I could do was plaster it as an abstract mosaic across my sky.

And then hide from it. While Cris Pieterson died.

While I was wrapped in the Force. And did nothing to stop it.

Blackness and bile rose up in the absence of my painting, a cold amorphous nothing. Like a void in space, a black hole left by the death of a star. And out of that emptiness came a wind so fetid and lovely all at the same time, smelling like rose petals and decay. Like candy floating in sewage. So strong that it made me pause, pulled me towards it. Towards the fascinating hollowness that resonated from it, magnifying the waves of pain that blistered my heart.

I had to fill it, that void, had to close it up before it swallowed me whole. It was a bad thing, made of darkness and death. But all I had left within me was the pain, the fear, the terror of what I was becoming and what I had let happen. All I had at that moment were the memories of Cris Pieterson, both good and bad. The snarky way he would complain about our fates, the dark brooding in his eyes, and the utter elation when we had saved Megga Tarn…

The void pulsed, demanded. Begged me to fill it, to pour all I had left into it. Promised me that my negative thoughts could fill it, that I could empty myself of all that burdened me. I could simply give it over to the nothingness so I wouldn't have to feel it anymore.

But if I did, I would never feel anything again.

I hesitated, staring down at the infinity inside myself. Would not feeling anything truly be a bad thing?

"Yes, Aria. It would. That way leads to the Dark Side."

I spun around in the blackness, seeing in my mind's eye the woman made of wind. Leia Organa. It never dawned on me to ask how she had appeared there in my head or why. Only that she was there, a target for the raging screams inside me. Like her brother had been when Tam had tried to reason with him during the encounter. She was the enemy, the rebel, the personification of why Pieterson had had to die.

I hated her.

"Why?" I shouted, my voice absorbed by the void, distorting and echoing back in a hushed whimper. "Why would it be so bad? I don't want this life anymore. I don't want to be so afraid so much all the time."

Her ethereal lips compressed in a thin line, sympathy in her crystal eyes. "No one wants to hurt or be afraid, Aria. But pain is unavoidable. And the true mark of strength isn't enduring the pain or the fear. It's what we do with it, what we make of it."

"Then I'm a coward," I hissed bitterly, and the void seemed to grow, seemed to writhe in putrid delight at my admission. "I wouldn't use my power to save him."

"Wouldn't?" She asked. "Or couldn't?"

"There's a difference?"

"Yes. What would have happened if you had used your power to stop the knife from cutting your friend?"

An image formed, hovered like fragile glass above the void. I saw myself seated at my console, saw Pieterson beside me. Saw Thrawn walk over to us. I couldn't hear the words spoken, the voices of memory sucked down into the hungry maw of the void. But I saw clearly the way Rukh had moved, how he had pierced Pieterson in the heart twice before bringing that blade across the man's throat. The punctures to the heart would have killed him in a matter of minutes, the blow across his carotid arteries merely speeding up the process. A dramatic finale to drive home the point of defying a Grand Admiral.

He was sending a message, I realized as that image filtered past the pain in my heart. Like when he had saved me from C'Baoth, his actions had been public and deliberate. Saving those he thought were worthy, and destroying those that weren't. Destroying those that defied Imperial authority, as Pieterson had done when trying to blame his failings on Ensign Colclazure.

Killing Pieterson for challenging his right to lead the Empire, for the defiance and daring in Pieterson's eyes when they spoke. He'd had no choice but to answer that challenge publicly, spectacularly. In an spray of blood across the console as a reminder of the price of defying orders.

So that Pieterson was dead before his eyes even finished closing.

I reached a hand outward, waving it. Trying to banish those thoughts into the void. I didn't want those memories anymore. I didn't want any of this anymore!

Organa's fingertips touched mine gently, halting my dismissive gesture. "Watch."

The image reset itself, started to play anew as Rukh moved in for the attack. And I saw myself do what I had wished I could have. I saw myself rise, fling out my hand. Rukh flew into the far crewpit wall and slid down it, unmoving. Thrawn turned. Pellaeon turned. And I flung a hand towards the Admiral, pushing him into the wall behind him. The same wall he'd pulled me against when C'Baoth had tried to claim me.

And then burning hot pain shot through me, filling my vision with white fire. I gasped, watching as my body crumpled to the deck. Dead as Pieterson. Shot in the back of the head by Reese in his stormtrooper armor, standing on the command walkway above us. Executed for treason. Somewhere on the bridge, Tam screamed. Horror and sorrow at my death causing him to rush onto the walkway, joining me in death as Reese pivoted smoothly and fired again. A single shot to the forehead. Like the single shot to the back of my head. The only gift of mercy he could give us after we'd chosen to allow Pieterson to drag us down with him.

He'd warned us. So many times he'd warned us. And we hadn't listened.

My hands were pressed to my eyes before I could see anything else. Giant sobs wracking my body.

"You did the only thing you could have done, Aria," Organa said softly. "You couldn't save him, and you knew it."

"I should have tried!"

"Do or do not, there is no try. Or so a wise Jedi master once told my brother. You now see the outcome of what would have happened if you had done something more. So tell me, is the fall worth it now? Do you truly have nothing left to feel?" she pulled my hands from my face, gesturing to the void, my artistic rendering of the Dark Side. "The sobs you give tell me otherwise."

I looked down at the void, the tantalizing easy slide out of my pain forever. Out of feeling any pain ever again. And then I looked back at her. "Tam and Reese," I whispered. "I can't… I can't leave them yet."

"You have one other person you cannot leave. And something you did not discard when you shattered the painting."

She curled the fingers of my empty hand into a fist, then slowly opened them again. A phoenix feather glowed against my palm, glittering with exceptional brightness in the contrasting black around us. "Captain Pellaeon…" I glanced back up at her again. "But why him? And how… why are you here? Why are you helping me? I can't help you in return. I can't even save the people I care about."

"You and Luke share something, but I don't know what it is, either. You should take his advice and come to him. An opportunity will present itself and when it does, you need to take it. The Force will provide. Or you will fall into the dark, and once there, it is a steep climb to get out of it. Look away from the darkness, Aria. Do it now. Your friends need you, especially those you have yet to encounter."

I looked away… and opened my eyes to find myself on the floor of the vibe shower, naked and trembling. My right palm bearing a scar-like imprint of a phoenix feather.

* * *

Pieterson's body was gone when I stepped back onto the bridge. The deck was pristine, the plasteel buffed to its usual mirror-like shine. Crewers focused on their stations, and officers moved with a steady purpose behind them. The hum of background conversations maintained its ever steady pitch, and stormtroopers flanked the turbolift doors on guard duty like always. I needed only to brush lightly on the wall that was Reese's in my head to know that one of the white-armored men was him.

To know that what Organa Solo had shown me wasn't just a theoretical future, but what exactly would have happened if I'd used the Force against Admiral Thrawn.

Reese's mind touched mine in return, softly, gently. And I was reminded of the feeling of my arms around his waist as he mourned the loss of his best friend. He was offering that, to hold me, to spend the evening in our meeting place with Tam. Sitting against that wall in a line so that we were all touching shoulder to shoulder, sharing the only comfort we could in the wake of this tragedy.

I shied away from them both, walling away my feelings in the black spot that once held my painting. The void floated there, a constant companion floating slightly out of reach. I didn't fill it, tried to wall it off in its own section. But always it lingered, always sending a tiny stream of sour and sweet to tickle at my conscience. I turned away from it like Organa Solo had said, focusing my real eyes on the bridge until it was all that I could see.

There was nothing to mark the death of a man I once considered a friend. In short, the bridge of the _Chimaera _was just the same as if I had walked onto it four months ago.

The normality of it was almost unreal.

I couldn't feel my feet as my boots crossed the deck. Couldn't feel my lips as I presented myself, all cleaned and perfectly groomed, to my officer. My hands beneath my gloves might as well have belonged to someone else as I worked the controls. And there was a curious blind spot in my right side field of vision. Though it only covered the station now occupied by some crewman I had never met. The fact that Ensign Colclazure wasn't leaning over him let me know he must have been Pieterson's counterpart on the night shift. Called to fill in until a replacement could be transferred from another ship.

I spent the rest of my shift filling out the reports and logs of the altercation with Skywalker, fighting the internal pressure that was Reese and Tam, both all but ordering me to our meeting room the moment I was free of my shift. I didn't bother to answer, kept the wall up between us. Though mine was no longer a barrier of sea water. It was now solid black, and cold as vacuum. Changed by my lack of painting, by the presence of the void.

Calling me. Whispering to me. Always there if I ever needed it.

Along with my curious inability to feel my body, I noticed that I could no longer see the ysalamiri bubbles on the bridge. That somehow cut through the numbness, my footsteps faltering on my way to the turbolift. I could feel them when I passed through one or the other, but it was like the feeling of a single raindrop falling on your hand. You registered it, but it didn't really do anything for you. Save, of course, making that void in my heart vanish for the time it took to cross through one of them.

I should be concerned about that, the part of me that still cared about such things registered. It should scare the crap out of me. But all it did was float on the air like a mote of dust, swallowed by the void before I clearly registered it. Maybe Tam would have some insight on this new development. If I cared enough about it to tell him.

"Crewman Idelas," Admiral Thrawn called as I passed the command stations. "Attend me, please."

I turned in mid-step, redirecting my feet to the command section. "Sir."

His eyes slid over me, taking me in from top to bottom. Like always. And that, too, slid into the void. All the fear, the nervousness, the emotions he normally inspired in me was likewise fed into the void. He was my commander. I was his crewer. It was just that simple. How had I not seen it before? How had I let emotions complicate that relationship?

His lips compressed for a moment, as if finding something in me that he didn't like. "Your notes on Organa Solo and Skywalker were intriguing," he said, handing my data card back to me. "Particularly the sections on the battles of Hoth and Bespin. Why did you choose to focus on those specific encounters?"

I took back the card, folding it into my fist behind my back. "I noticed a pattern during the course of my studies," I said simply, my voice devoid of emotion. "The rebels fought at their best when backed into a corner. I found those battles you mentioned the best examples of their ingenuity."

Those eyebrows lifted fractionally. "Yet these are battles in which they lost ground."

"Gaining or losing ground wasn't the focus of my studies, sir. Learning the thoughts that went into the tactics used in each situation was. Though these were counted as Imperial victories, I chose to see them as losses. In each encounter, the main focus was to trap and destroy the rebellion, not run them off. In that, the rebels out-thought and out maneuvered us, escaping. Especially the instances involving Skywalker and Organa Solo directly. I did not want to have such a thing happen to me."

He blinked once. Twice. "You are essentially correct, Crewman," he replied, that look of almost disapproval returning to his features, at odds with the words he was speaking. "You displayed such intuition commendably during our engagement with Skywalker. Your techniques were original and thought provoking. I believe it is finally time for us to have that talk I promised you."

"Respectfully, sir, I must decline."

That earned two raised eyebrows this time. "Must you?"

"I am not… well, sir. I am afraid that I will waste your time this evening."

"I disagree, Crewman. However, I shall give you some time to gather yourself," he glanced at his wrist chronometer. "Two hours, Crewman Idelas. Then meet me in my command room. If you do not know the way, Captain Pellaeon will provide it to you."

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed."


	19. Chapter 19 - Conversations Part 1

A/N: And here it is! The first part of the conversation with Thrawn. I hope you all like it. Much like with another story I am working on, this chapter was way too big to post all at once (over 10,000 words!). So it's broken up into sections. As always, thank you so much for the reviews, favorites, follows, and private messages. I can't tell you how much those help keep this story going. :D

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

Everybody has an image of themselves that they keep fixed in their minds eye, a perception you could call it, of what they wished others to see. Those images always flickered in my mind when I met people for the first time, seeing what they wanted me to see like a thin veneer over the truth of what they really were. That ability had faded in me when I was conscripted, and I suppose that was due to my own fear at this unexpected course my destiny was taking. It's always hard to see to the truth of the matter when your emotions are running high, clouding even the tiniest bit of true perception.

It had taken the friendship of Tam and Reese to bring that aspect back into my existence. And I had painted the images in my head of the things I saw. Like the phoenix fire that was Captain Pellaeon, or the storm that was Reese. All this time I had thought it was artistic license, that indelible quality that allowed the creator to see past the exterior and into the heart of a potential subject.

Now I knew different. It had been an early manifestation of my Force potential. I wasn't sure if that was a disappointment or a blessing.

I thought of this, of all topics, as I stood before the anteroom doors to the Admiral's command room. Rumor had it that this had once been a luxury entertainment suite, the place the Captain and his select core of associations would gather after shift to relax in comfort. Or the place where said Captain entertained highly placed dignitaries or members of the royal court when forced to convey them from world to world. Regardless of the truth of what this room had once been used for, the other rumor stated that the Admiral's first act before even stepping foot onto the Chimaera was to completely retrofit the entire space.

No one really knew what he did in there, or what the room looked like now.

I should be afraid. I should feel my heart in my throat and my palms drenched in sweat. I tried to summon that perception, to imprint it over my exterior. To make it real, feel it in my soul.

What I felt was… nothing. No, that wasn't exactly right. I felt _something_, and it was more like a curious numbness that enveloped my entire body. A tingling as if I had walked from the frozen depths of winter into the instant heat of the home my family kept in the mountains. Part of me realized that it was the shock wearing off, that very soon that warming tingling was going to give way to real emotions. I was going to give into bouts of tears for Pieterson now that I had screamed until my throat was raw.

I could only hope that I was safely away from anyone when that happened. But in that moment, with only durasteel doors separating me from the man that had ordered Pieterson's death, I couldn't bring myself to care. If I was lucky, he'd cut me down, too. Then I wouldn't have to feel this ache anymore. Then I wouldn't have to face the void that floated just out of my line of sight. I wouldn't have to be this _thing_ I had become.

"_No, I hate Thrawn," Pieterson hissed the name like a curse. "He's destroyed you, Idelas, murdered you and replaced you with this monster that wears your face."_

I couldn't argue with that memory, and so I didn't.

The doors parted when I keyed for the alert chime. A small, dimly lit, and unadorned room appeared before me, an anticlimactic beginning to all the hype and rumor about the place. I knew officers that would trade two months pay for the chance to see this far into the Admiral's personal sanctum. I should have been honored. And terrified. But the void consumed that, too, chewing up my emotions and spewing out a frost made of regret and sorrow that started to coat the shattered pieces of my painting like ash.

Hands clasped behind my back, I stepped forward, eyes adjusting to the dimness as the doors closed behind me. "Crewman Aria Idelas to see Grand Admiral Thrawn. I am expect—"

I felt him coming seconds before the hiss of air on the back of my neck announced his presence. The Force alerting me to the shifting of life in the room, or rather Reese's skills with the Force provided that. His paranoia and fear for what I was walking into manifesting itself across our bond. Rukh, the alien that had murdered my friend, was standing behind me. And still I couldn't feel anything. The rage, the anguish that this slender grey creature had brought to my world, spun out of my heart in crimson lines like snakes made of blood and fury. Only to be stretched thin across the void, swallowed before they could take root in my soul. And the void grew. Hungered.

Demanded more blood and pain and hurt. Begged me to embrace it and punish this creature for what it had done to us.

Us, as in the _void _and _I_.

Not Tam. Not Reese.

That should have made me howl in fright. Instead, it just funneled into the void like everything else. Like the sound of Tam and Reese slamming mental fists into my mental wall, doing everything in their power to break down my defenses and try to… what? Reason with me? Reach me? Did it really matter at this point? I couldn't answer them, at least not yet. One look from Tam, one touch from Reese, and not even this void of darkness inside me would be enough to swallow the pain. I would break, splinter on their kindness. Sob until I was nothing.

And it wasn't that I particularly liked Pieterson to begin with. Yet he had become a comrade, an ally, and something close to a real friend. For that, I mourned.

But I didn't have the luxury of grief right now.

I turned slowly, my eyes flat like Captain Pellaeon's could be, and regarded the murderer of Cris Pieterson. He stared back at me, head craning slightly to meet my eyes. Clear, untroubled, blacker than true night: those were Rukh's eyes. The eyes of a person that had killed without flinching, that had done so under orders. The eyes of a person that believed blindly in those orders and the leader that gave them.

Those should have been my eyes. Was I not trained to be exactly that way?

"I am expected," I finished, watching as a length of sliver vanished up the Noghri's sleeve. Possibly the same silvery blade that had killed Pieterson.

"So you are," he mewled back in that cat-like voice. "Do you intend harm to the Admiral?"

Surprise flitted around the edge of the numbness, consumed by the void before I could grasp it completely. It was a very good question. Did I intend to harm the Admiral? The void was eager for it, the darkness in its depths pulsing with the need for retribution to our hurt. But a better question would have been: was it really the Admiral's blood I wanted?

"No," I answered both him and myself. "I do not intend him harm."

He looked like he didn't believe me. And given the way my voice sounded hollow in my own ears, I probably wouldn't have believed me, either. But it was the truth. The deep, shameful, burning truth. It was all the answer I had for him. All that I could give anyone in that moment. He would have to take it, or tell the Admiral why I had been turned away from his summons.

"You may enter," Rukh said at last, gesturing with one steely, muscled arm.

I turned to go where he indicated, and then paused. Turned back. "Master Rukh, I do not blame you for his death. I thought you should know that."

He didn't have to ask as to whom I was referring. Rukh studied me, and appeared to relax for the first time. Not that my absolving him of the guilt I should be laying at his feet had any sort of impact on him. But I think it was my honesty. My acknowledging that Pieterson's death was his own fault, that made him feel more comfortable allowing me in close proximity to his liege.

"He was your friend," Rukh answered, the words a statement and not a question.

"Yes."

"You wanted to save him?"

I… hesitated. Remembering the image, the possible future, that Organa Solo had shown me. "I wanted to save him from himself, Master Rukh. But in that I failed, long before your blade took his life."

He nodded once, folding himself into a position that was half-bow and half-kneel. "I will light a candle tonight to honor your memory of him. He was foolish to challenge the Admiral. But his foolishness does not render your loss irrelevant, nor bring dishonor on you and his family. For the memory of those that loved him, I will do this."

I didn't know what to say to that. Nothing would come to me. Not shame, not fear, not sorrow. Literally nothing. All eaten by the darkness inside me. So I did what I had seen the Admiral and the Captain do to acknowledge something. I nodded. And I turned to the second set of double doors, stepping through—

—and nearly stumbling to my knees.

The void vanished, taking with it the Force and the incessant pounding of Reese and Tam in my head. My eyes moved of their own accord, seeking and finding the ysalamiri draped across the back of his chair in the center of the room. I had crossed blindly into the bubble that I had once been able to see. But that was all secondary to the real sight that brought me low.

My paintings hovered in the space closest to the Admiral's command chair, floating in a holographic circle. Here and there on ornate pedestals, my attempts at sculpting and woodcarving stared back at me. Holographic, too, but appearing with such clarity that the originals could have been right there within arm's reach.

Why had he done this? _How_ had he done this, gathered them all? Some of these pieces hung in my parent's living room, having never seen a recorder before…

It was a stupid question, one brought on by my surprise. I was a conscript serving under threat of force, that threat being the lives of my family. The Empire was at war. All able-bodied individuals who met the right criteria were required to serve. I had been told, in no uncertain terms, that if I did not serve, I would be considered a traitor to the Empire. And my family would be considered accomplices to my treachery. The punishment for that was death. They were constantly watched, my family. Just in case I decided to desert my post and accept the mantle of traitor.

It wouldn't be difficult for him to place a call to the garrison on my homeworld, to have a holo cam brought to my family's home and my artwork scanned. What would my family have thought about this? Did they even know that this was done under a Grand Admiral's orders? Would they even care? Did they try to stop it?

The first thread of feeling started to work through the icy ash in my soul. Tremulous and fragile.

"You are late, Crewman Idelas," he said by way of greeting, glancing at his wrist chronometer. "Two minutes late, to be precise."

I was blasted back to that day months ago, to a veritable lifetime of experiences ago, when I stared up at him for the first time. Peering at him hesitantly from beneath my eyelashes, trying to not look like I was looking at him. The both of us knowing the truth. And that same unreadable expression was on his features, reminding me of a scale. Of being measured to some standard I wasn't privy to understand. I was reminded of the dream, of myself and Reese and Tam in his palm.

Where was that idealistic girl, that naïve child that had thought long hair was the ultimate show of defiance to the Imperial military machine? Gone. Trampled beneath Imperial edicts and training, smashed into a mold to become the thing I was now.

_He's destroyed you, Idelas, murdered you and replaced you with this monster that wears your face._

My wrist tingled, and behind my back I reversed my grip, so that my right hand covered my left wrist. Partly to rub away those tingles. Partly to assure myself that no silver bracelet clung to the skin.

"My apologies, sir. I have no excuse."

"I did not ask for one, Crewman."

"Yes, sir."

"Come closer, please."

I threaded my way through the sparse pedestals, wondering at the placement, at how they grouped together tighter and tighter as I approached the double display ring that encircled his chair. All around me, my paintings hovered. Mocking me. Taunting me. Trying to burn the frost from the shattered pieces inside my head. As if near proximity to my other words were a magnet, drawing those parts back together.

Embarrassment tried to make its way past the numbness, a second feeling quick on the heels of the first. A faint blush touching my cheeks even if I didn't undergo the emotional connection to it. Embarrassed and shy that my Supreme Commander was staring at my artwork. But _why_ was he doing this? Why was he looking at my artwork? Did it have something to do with C'Baoth's taunts when he'd tried to claim me? Why did art matter to him at all?

I stopped at the outer ring of this displays, standing at full attention. Those eyes swept over me, once more taking me in head to toe, expression unreadable.

"You show talent in the technical aspects of your chosen medium, Crewman," he said, eyes drifting to the holo displays. "Originality of thought and the ability to think outside of standard perimeters are present as well. I particularly like your use of colors in this painting here. The contrast to the normal shades usually employed by humans in a sunset pictorial lends emotion to the piece. And here…

He gestured to one of my sculptures, the one of a woman with three faces. One normal, one contorted in pain, the final one hidden behind a locked mask. "This is a companion piece to the painting I mentioned, isn't it? Flashes of intense high emotion encased in restraint. Emotions untouchable by the outside, and yet unreachable from within one's self, but not without logic to temper it. Someone had hurt you greatly when you created these. Something akin to what happened today."

It wasn't a question. I swallowed, red starting to wash into the darkness inside me. The red of his eyes eating away at the blackness. Or was it the red of my rage finally surfacing and my mind had misinterpreted it, had tried to cast him in the role of villain to pacify my own culpability in Pieterson's death. I had done nothing to stop it, and even with what Leia had showed me, I couldn't help but feel partially responsible. As I had told Rukh, I couldn't save Pieterson from himself, and I should have.

As to the Admiral's assumption, I had to admit he was absolutely correct. Uncannily so.

"I should have done something," I heard myself say, trying not to unlock the seas of my past while I was drowning in the present. "He was my friend. I saw the warnings, the signs. I ignored them. I thought I could have have… I had hoped when he was in the brig that…"

_Shut up, Ari! _ I scolded myself. He wasn't my confessor. I wasn't here for his absolution of my sins. The faces of my paintings, the images of my work, his analysis of my creations, dared to say otherwise. I was in a holy place of sorts, his inner sanctum. And now mine, too, so long as my work graced its airspace. My soul on display for him to see, to weigh and measure. To condemn or embrace as he saw fit.

"Crewman Pieterson's actions were his own. As were yours."

"I was a rank above him, sir. I should have done something to blunt his behavior."

"Perhaps," He leaned forward to touch a button on one of the display rings.

Another hologram appeared. Ensign Ratib Orn's image appeared just outside the comforting circle of my artwork, standing at attention. As if this has been his official holo capture for the Imperial databases. My hands gripped my wrists behind my back fiercely, my lips tightening. Even my eyes felt like they tensed up, suppressing the rising memories of Orn's death at my hands. We had tried to save him, Tam, Pieterson and I. He was our first attempt at removing C'Baoth's taint from the crew.

We had tried to save him, and failed. Just like with Pieterson.

But that didn't matter, either. What mattered was that we were utter idiots on top of failures. Thinking we were so slick and smooth, that the actions of two insignificant crewmen went unnoticed. We should have known that the Admiral would have launched an investigation into the death of Orn after the mysterious mental breakdown that Lieutenant Hollinger suffered. We should have known that there was no such thing as "insignificant crewman" on a ship like the _Chimaera_.

I swallowed, turning back to face my Admiral. To face judgment for my part in the death of another crewman. Oddly enough I felt relief. Peace almost, to fill that emptiness inside. When I gazed back at my commander, my face was as blank as before. And I waited to feel the warnings through the Force that Rukh was coming, that his blade was going to cut through my body at any second.

I waited.

And waited.

Nothing happened. Not even the doors parting to announce the arrival of a stormtrooper unit to arrest me. I was now complicit in the deaths of two crew members. At the very least I should expect demotion, a trial, and imprisonment. After that, I would face the rest of my conscription terms assigned to some horrible backwater post to never see the light of day again.

"I… don't understand, sir," I said into the silence.

"And what is it that you do not understand, Crewman?"

_Everything! Why are you studying my paintings? Why did C'Baoth taunt you with art? Why do you need me on this ship? Why did you kill my friend when you offered me a transfer once before, if that would have helped me? Why me and not him? WHY DO YOU NEED ME ON THE CHIMAERA? WHY DO I DREAM ABOUT YOU AND SILVER BRACELETS AND SCALES AND THE UNIVERSE BALANCED ON THE EDGE OF DESTRUCTION? WHY!_

"Why am I still here?" I asked softly. "Why am I not dead or under arrest? You know of my role in Ensign Orn's death, and by my own admission, I failed proper protocols concerning erratic behavior in Crewman Pieterson."

"Was it your intention to end the lives of these two members of the crew?"

"No, sir. But I have been counseled before on merely following intentions or orders. Such things do not excuse the actions an officer takes, not at the core of the matter."

His lips quirked in an almost smile. "The Captain gave you wise counsel in that," he said, glancing down at his displays a moment. "But that isn't the whole of the lesson. You will learn that in the course of your career; it is not a truth that cannot be taught. For the moment, I will reserve judgment on you and your allies' involvement in the death of Ensign Orn."

He pressed a button on the arm of his chair, and the holo of Orn sprang into motion, joined by the holo images of myself, Tam, and Pieterson. Playing out the last moments of Orn's life.

I nodded, feeling the weight settle back on my shoulders. There would be no relief for me this night, no escape into death from this crushing existence. "Yes, sir," I replied, dejected.

He glanced up at me sharply at that reply, eyes locking onto mine and searching hard. "Answer me this, Crewman, and I want you to speak freely. Do you hold me accountable for the death of Crewman Pieterson?"

I wanted to say yes, that he could have done something different. All those unspoken questions from before rose up to touch the back of my lips, begging to be freed. I wanted a tendril of rage to spring forth from my heart, to empower me enough to scream at him. He'd ordered Pieterson's death. He'd literally pointed a finger and my friend had died. Died before he'd even realized it was happening.

The scream wouldn't rise in me, nor would the rage. Not standing there surrounded by my works, not staring into his eyes. Not after the conversation with Rukh, and the way the Noghri was going to honor the feelings of myself and Tam and Pieterson's family. Not after Reese's repeated warnings that this was going to happen.

Not after experiencing Pieterson's own rage, his own near-insane glee at allowing Skywalker to escape.

"No," I choked out, breaking protocol and letting my hand press against my heart. Breathing hard, I realized, as the tears slid down my face. The physical manifestation of the last vestiges of rage I harbored towards this man. The first full emotion I'd felt in hours. "No, I do not blame you, sir."

"Why?"

_He's destroyed you, Idelas, murdered you and replaced you with this monster that wears your face._

I was standing right next to him. Rukh wasn't in the room. I could, if I wanted to, reach out and strike him. I could take all the training that Reese had given me, the combat maneuvers that had been the bane of my existence, and try to kill him. The void would have wanted this, would have whispered that every moment of my life since my conscription was leading to this point. The physical training, the trust he'd shown me, the death of Pieterson. All of it adding up to this destiny.

I could do it. Try to take retribution for what he'd done. The thought faded as soon as it was formed, though. For the very same reason that I hadn't used the Force to protect Pieterson.

_In case you haven't been paying attention, I am an Imperial now. So are you. So is Tam._

_I will light a candle tonight to honor your memory of him. He was foolish to challenge the Admiral. But his foolishness does not render your loss irrelevant. For the memory of those that loved him, I will do this._

"Because you are my Supreme Commander," I said, wiping at my tears and trying to stand at attention. "I trust you with my life. I serve the Empire, and Pieterson didn't. Wouldn't. No matter how much we tried to convince him otherwise."

We. As in Reese, and Tam. Not the void. Never again the void. Not when it felt so good to say those words out loud, to affirm my loyalty with a spoken vow. To let go of the fear of what I was becoming, of where my destiny was taking me. There, surrounded by the real pieces of my soul, I was strong enough to do that. Funny that I had to break completely to be stronger than before.

"Then I recommend that you stop blaming yourself, Crewman," he said, graciously ignoring my tears. "I told you once that I needed you on this ship, and I need you at your full capabilities."

I stood a little taller. Tried to at any rate. "Yes, sir. Is that… is that why you held off on this conversation until now?"

A tiny smile tugged at his lips. "Partially. I needed you to be ready to face a test of loyalty."

"Loyalty to you, sir?"

"Loyalty to yourself," he corrected.

And I got it, finally. The reason why Rukh had been so antsy in the anteroom, the reason I had been beckoned to stand next to him. The reason he had shown me that he knew all about our activities with Ensign Orn. A test. To see if I would strike at him, to see how far he could push me. And if I would remain true to my training. To my oaths to the Empire.

_In case you haven't been paying attention, I am an Imperial now. So are you. So is Tam._

_I am an Imperial now. So are you. So is Tam._

_I am an Imperial now. _

_I am. _

_I._

I had passed the test. I was still me, still Aria Idelas. I wasn't the monster. I wasn't the one consumed by my own fear, twisted inside until I betrayed every oath I had ever spoken. Inside, I picked up the first shard of my painting, and blew warm breath across the icy ash until it melted. It had been the final thing holding me back, I realized in that moment. I had been holding onto memories of a home that wasn't mine anymore, tying myself to the past.

It was time for a new painting, a new _perception _of what I wanted to be.

And I knew deep inside, that as long as I had that painting, the void wouldn't touch me. It would always be there, but it wasn't the center of my life.

I was an Imperial crewman. _That_ would be my focus.

"Thank you, sir," I said, meaning it.

He nodded once, glancing back at the display ring. "Now, the last members of this conversation will arrive in a moment, and we can turn our attention to exactly why I need you here."

The doors opened and closed behind me, and at a gesture from the Admiral, I turned.

To stare at Calim Tam and Jadrek Reese.


	20. Chapter 20 - Conversations Part 2

A/N: Thanks again for all the awesome reviews, favorites and private messages! This is part two of the conversation with Thrawn as promised. :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

I didn't know what to think, what to do or say as I stared at Tam and Reese. There was no military training for this instance, nor protocol or set guidelines of behavior when shocked down to the core of your being. My brain felt as if it had short-circuited, as if my nervous system had simply hit maximum usage and shut down. It was all I could do to remain where I was, my hands locked behind my back and my shoulders squared.

And just stare.

Even with the evidence floating in a holographic display that spelled my doom, there had been a part of me that had hoped he would dismiss Tam's part in the death of Ensign Orn. That he could possibly blame that death on the man that had already died in disgrace at his vey feet. Petty and cowardly, and so horribly wrong that I would wish Pieterson to take the fall for our mistakes. But Pieterson was already dead, and the Admiral could not do anything to him anymore. It made me want to vomit to think of it that way.

But it positively made me want to die just thinking about Tam or Reese coming to harm. With all my being, I prayed that the Admiral would ignore Reese's involvement in our actions against Ensign Tarn. Without realizing it I began to hope with all my heart that if he would not blame Pieterson, he would have thought _me_ the ring leader of our group. That he would punish me and simply let the others go.

With the ysalamiri projecting their bubbles in the air, appearing before my eyes like faintly shimmering motes of dust in the air, I couldn't project my wants to Tam or Reese. I couldn't express my sorrow or hear their thoughts in return. We were separate people again, individuals instead of a whole, and I felt as if I was missing half my ability to see, half my ability to hear. It was… painful to be apart from them.

Reese was the first to see me, and the shock that danced across his eyes was quickly replaced by a relief so strong I could nearly feel it even without our bond. He hid it well, and I had the feeling that unless you knew him as well as I did, you never would have seen that emotion. Not a flicker, not a bat of an eyelash. But it was there in those stormy grey eyes.

Relief.

And a fleeting moment of joy that I still breathed.

Then I realized what must have happened, what it must have been like for the two of them. I had gone into this meeting filled with fear and dread and emptiness, consumed with grief. Not the most ideal of situations in which to speak to anyone, nevertheless the Supreme Commander of the Empire. And my last thought before I crossed the ysalamiri boundary, the last thing they would have felt from me even through the thick shielding walls we had all thrown up between us, was utter shock and horror.

Which was abruptly cut off without warning. Just gone. Non-existent due to the Force nullifying ability of the ysalamiri.

It was as if I had died.

Judging from the look on Tam's face, the slightly winded way in which he breathed, the two of them had literally dropped anything they were doing and ran—_ran_—here. I felt the blood drain from my face, felt my head droop. Oh stars, how much they had revealed about us with that one frantic action. I was willing to bet that the Admiral did not have half the information I had originally credited him with obtaining in regards to our Force abilities. But now… now by their actions, he had more than enough to justify any speculation.

"Eyes forward, Crewman," Admiral Thrawn reproved.

My head lifted, my eyes forward. My posture back to that painful military attention. And inside, I quaked.

Tam had a harder time of things than Reese, stumbling down to one knee when he crossed that invisible barrier, gasping and clutching his head in his hands. He was so much stronger in the Force than Reese and I, and loosing that connection must have been like a punch in the gut. A hard punch that stole the breath from your body and left your head ringing.

The only thing I could do now was cling to basic training, to stand at attention next to my superior officer and wait for instructions. I watched Tam climbed back to his feet, coming forward to stand next to Reese in a similar posture of attention. Waiting for the Admiral to acknowledge their presence.

It wasn't a long wait.

"Lieutenant Reese, Crewman Tam, thank you for joining us," he greeted, lip twitching in a slight smile. "It saved me the trouble of having you summoned. Please, come closer."

They did. Reese moving forward, first, and Tam moving a step behind him, giving difference to the other man's higher rank. They settled into a similar stance at the edge of the outer display ring much like I had in the beginning. And I blinked. I hadn't remembered moving this close to the Admiral, walking into the display rings until I stood at his right. It was also then that I noticed the images of my artwork were gone, but the image of Ensign Orn remained.

Tam couldn't help but flick a glance towards that image, going slightly pale. To his credit, his face set into lines of determined resignation, ready to accept whatever judgment the Admiral would hand down. There was no point in denying our involvement. No point in resisting whatever fate was about to be bestowed upon us.

I glanced at the Admiral, torn as to what to do. Should I join the others or stay at his side? Did the absence of my paintings conclude our conversation? No, that couldn't be it. He had alluded just moments ago to the fact that Reese and Tam were going to be part of that conversation.

"Remain where you are, Crewman Idelas," he said, eyes focused on Tam and Reese. Almost absently addressing my unspoken question.

He pushed a button the arm of his chair and the holo of Orn's death sprang to life again. Once that completed its gruesome show, the holo flickered and became Ensign Tarn, going through the stages we had set up in order to save her life. Then it flickered to key points in what we foolishly thought were our secret meetings in that abandoned storage closet. The selection of moments mostly focused on Pieterson and his rants. Tam went completely pale at that. I was fairly certain I took a step backward, caught myself, and stepped forward. And Reese showed his discomfort with the barest of compressions of his lips.

Stars above, he knew! He _knew_. He knew every word, every motion, every action.

Every plan.

Did that have something to do with his decision to end Pieterson's life? I thought back to that one damning sentence, the one where Pieterson had alluded to the fact that Tam and I could use our powers to run away from our duties. And I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that our adamant refusal was the only thing that kept the Admiral from adding my blood to Pieterson's that moment on the bridge.

"_In time, you may be able to simply do what you want and waltz right off this ship without anyone being able to challenge you."_

Growing powers or not, I was still here. I had proven my loyalty again, escaping Reese's prophecy by a hair's width.

Instinct demanded that I start spouting excuses, start uttering words to justify what we had done. And right on its heels, discipline caught my instinct and viciously beat it to the proverbial ground. I would not speak until spoken to when a superior officer was in the room. So far the Admiral had not given any of us permission to so much as crack our lips to draw breath.

"Your thoughts," Admiral Thrawn said as the last holo image ran to its end.

I glanced at Tam. Tam glanced at Reese and then me. Reese stared straight ahead, obviously giving the center stage to one of us that understood this Force thing better than he did.

"Our intentions were good, sir," Tam said, breaking the silence first. "I want to state that for the record before we discuss anything else. Master C'Baoth has been using the Force to influence the minds of the crew, to twist them to his own dark purpose. We first became aware of this when Lieutenant Hollinger's personality began to change…"

To his credit, Tam laid it all out on the line. Honestly. Concisely. As if giving his daily report to his superior officer. He included the projecting of his abilities on to me during that first confrontation with C'Baoth at the battle of Bpfassh and everything to the point where Ensign Megga Tarn had become tainted. Reese picked up the tale then, confessing his own involvement and the planning he put into recovering the sanity of the Ensign. But what neither of them added was my part in the story, how my abilities worked. And I saw something in the Admiral's expression flicker, a minute change I would not have been able to catch had I not been standing that close to him.

He was aware that the other two were omitting things. And that could mean I would lose two more friends this day.

"I'm the link," I said, cutting off Reese in mid-word.

The other man stared at me in disbelief. Admiral Thrawn turned those eyes on me, lifting an eyebrow. Staring at me as if I had just spoken out of turn. I took a deep breath. There was no going back now.

"Crewman Idelas speaks the truth," Tam rushed in before I could say anything more. "She forged the link between us, and can amplify the Force powers in others. I identified this earlier in her, and fought to keep it out of the hands of C'Baoth. As did Lieutenant Reese."

"And after Master C'Baoth proved he could tamper with the minds of those of higher rank, you chose to err on the side of caution and not report this to your superior officers, I assume."

Tam swallowed once. "Yes, sir."

"It was never our intentions to cause harm, sir," I put in. "We saw a problem with the ship, and without any procedures to guide us, we did the best we could to repair it."

"You claim loyalty as your defense in the death of Ensign Orn, then?"

I swallowed hard this time and nodded. "Yes, sir. When we confronted Ensign Orn, he was in the process of delivering a package for Master C'Baoth. We intercepted it, which lead to our attempt to… cleanse him, I think that is the best way to state it… of C'Baoth's taint. Though I may state for the record that Lieutenant Reese is not complicit in any activity that is connected with the death of Ensign Orn. Crewman Tam, Crewman P-" It hurt to say his name, still. And I licked my lips. "Crewman Tam, Crewman Pieterson, and I were the individuals responsible. We accept your judgment."

He glanced up at me. "Do you still have this package?"

Tam reached into a pocket of his jumpsuit, pulling out the second data card that we guarded closer than our own lives. "This was all that was contained in the case, sir," Tam replied, handing over the data card. "We couldn't make out what was on it. It reads like—"

"A moment, Crewman," Thrawn cut him off. "Allow me to make my own determinations."

He slotted the data card on his display circle, the information flowing on a screen only he could see. I already knew what was on it, though I didn't quite understand it. Something about chemical compositions and mixes, of a selection of private samples once held by the Emperor, himself. It also referenced a piece of spaarti technology recovered from some mountain on Wayland.

It all looked like medical gibberish to us, and despite our best efforts, we weren't able to so much as crack a line of it. It had been my hope that Vyns would soon win his bet with Torre and bed Dr. Ashta Flores. At least then I would have a legitimate excuse to visit her, maybe ask some questions related to all that unintelligible scrawl. Yes, I felt a slight bit of shame in using the bet between Vyns and Torre to my advantage. But as the Admiral had said before, we were at war.

Just because my war was personal and wasn't over lines on a star map didn't make it any less of a war. I had to use all advantages at my disposal.

After what felt like an eternity, the Admiral leaned back in his seat again. Lips compressed slightly, looking as if he had come to a final decision. We all stood straighter, even Reese. Ready to accept the judgment.

"Crewmen Idelas and Tam, I hereby clear you of your involvement in the death of Ensign Orn. You did well in that regard," he said, pinning each of us with a stare. "However, I do not absolve you of your actions. You are guilty of failing to report this to a superior officer. Your abilities in the Force do not excuse you from following the proper chain of command. Whatever you may consider yourselves, you are still members of this Fleet and you will learn to follow its rules. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," we both replied at once.

"I am given to understand that you both perform exceptionally well in your assigned duties. Yet it appears that when left your own devices, you tend towards a certain lack of discipline," he continued, glancing at the frozen hollow of the two of us in that empty supply closet, chatting with Pieterson. "You will report to Lieutenant Reese at the end of your shifts for no less than two hours each evening. This will continue until the Lieutenant informs me that you have learned to focus your free time on less improper activities."

"This will also serve as a lesson to you, Lieutenant," The Admiral touched a button on his chair. The holo image of our activities with Ensign Tarn replaced the other. Particularly the portion in which Reese led. "You have fought with these two as if they were part of your unit. Perhaps using your free time for the provided duration to put them through rigorous training will reinforce your dedication to those already under your command."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, I assume the individuals listed on this data card are all working under C'Baoth's influence."

He produced a second card from a slot on his display. The one that Pieterson had on his person when he died, the one containing all our notes and research regarding those tainted by the Dark Side. To my credit this time, I felt my heart flip in my chest but my outward appearance remained unruffled. We'd been cleared in the murder of a senior officer. We'd come clean about our actions regarding C'Baoth.

It was over. We could go back to being simply crewman again. Someone more competent, more qualified, could handle things from here.

"Yes, sir," Tam replied, his voice more confident than I'd heard it in months. Relieved as much as I was that this was finally over. "I have personally verified the levels and length of time under C'Baoth's influence that each person listed has suffered."

"Have you noticed any further activity in these officers that are out of the ordinary?"

Tam hesitated. "Not really, sir. It is difficult to track them. I… am running out of excuses to be in areas I shouldn't in order to check every one. Lieutenant Reese and Crewman Idelas have done their best to assist. However…"

"However neither of the two possesses your strength in the Force, and thus cannot adequately tell for certain."

"Yes, sir."

"I see," Admiral Thrawn continued to scan down the list, frowning briefly at this name or that. Eye brows lifting or eyes narrowing slightly. "How long will it take you, if you have the 'excuse' to be near these officers, to verify the levels of taint as you put it?"

Tam started, eyes slightly wide. "Uh… Three days, sir. Give or take a few hours. It… uh, it honestly all depends on the length of time and the amount of access C'Baoth had to them."

"And if Crewman Idelas assists you?"

"Her assistance for this really isn't necessary," he replied honestly. "It's when we cleanse someone that I need her strength, and that of Lieutenant Reese."

Admiral Thrawn drummed his fingers on his armrest, eyes turned inward for a moment, considering. "Take them with you anyway," he said at last. "Tomorrow, I will provide you with a list of names and a reason to be in specific areas of the ship. Consider it your first command assignment under your new rank, Ensign Tam."

Tam's eyes widened all the way this time. "Sir?"

"The correct response is 'Thank you, sir.'"

"Uh, T-thank you, sir," Tam stuttered out. "But, sir. My post on the bridge—"

"Your talents are worth more to me in the Imperial Security Bureau than working a communications station on the bridge," he said pointedly. "The ISB division has become severely fragmented since the events at Endor. I have decided to alter their original purpose slightly, given that Jedi once again rove the galaxy. You have proven yourself useful in rooting out Force users and those under the influence of Force suggestions. What I am asking you to do is nothing more than you have already done. "

"Y-yes, sir. But what about Crewman Idelas and L—"

"Stormtroopers as highly trained and specialized as Lieutenant Reese are in short supply. For the moment, he will remain where he is. If you have need of him and his talents, I will see that he is available. As for Crewman Idelas, she will also be made available to you as needed. However, she remains primarily on the bridge, where I need her to be."

He didn't like it, but Tam finally surrendered. We were going to be split up, and no amount of argument was going to change that. I had to wonder if that was part of our punishment. Together, we had proven ourselves dangerous, destructive even, and without direction. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't fault his logic. We'd be separated until he could fully trust us as a unit. Until the other two proved they had earned the right to stand in his palm, like I had.

I glanced down at the Admiral's hand resting on the arm of his chair, could almost see the silver ring on his little finger and the matching chain that would flow to the cuff on my wrist. I was already bound to him symbolically, allowed to stand at his side to show the others that he trusted me.

I watched my best friend lift his head and square his shoulders, as if he'd realized this, too. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"You will report directly to me for the time being, Ensign," the Admiral said. "Additional orders will be issued to you in the morning. I trust I do not have to impress upon you the need for discretion regarding this conversation. You are dismissed."


	21. Chapter 21 - The First Mission

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews and favorites. :) I'm glad that you are enjoying this.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

With a hand that shook only slightly, I folded the front of the crisp white uniform fabric across Tam's heart, connecting the magnetic clasps on the left side as was proper. I had done this same thing many times for Reese, smoothing the perfectly tailored tunic across his shoulders and helping him prepare for his day. I did it for Tam in much the same fashion. Both a labor of love, though one was driven by passion and the other was brotherly.

And still the same feeling of mingled pride and dread filled me as I watched Tam clip his new rank bar to the front of that glistening white. He was going to put himself in danger today. Hell, we all were to some extent, but he more than most. Today was the first day that we were operating as an official team, acting under orders from the Grand Admiral, moving forward to find those that were doing C'Baoth's will and put a stop to it.

Only I wouldn't be going with them physically.

According to our orders, I was to report to the bridge today. I was to sit in the chair that C'Baoth used, the one outside of the spheres of ysalamiri influence. I was to link with Tam and Reese, to do nothing more than let their power flow through me and return it twice as strong. I was to fill them to bursting with it, and allow them to take down key people as outlined in the Admiral's plan. But I was to do so under Thrawn's direct command, under his very gaze.

Control. This was all about control. And the Admiral wasn't about to remove C'Baoth's influence only to replace it with ours. I wouldn't be surprised if an order came down from him that I wasn't to touch the Force without his approval. I was the key, the link between them and a source of greater power. Granted, alone I was as useless as a power pack without a blaster. I could barely flick on a light switch—and even that took monumental amounts of concentration from me and failed more often than it worked. But with other Force users, I was that same power pack except plugged into a DC-17.

Now that the Admiral knew this for certain, this 'key' would rest in his proverbial pocket. Used when he felt it necessary.

That thought bothered me more than I would admit.

Tam stood stock-still before the small mirror in Reese's 'fresher station, his skin only a shade darker than the material of his tunic, pale as death. Lips compressed in a thin line as he settled his black uniform cap in place, as he smoothed a hand across the black exquisitely tailored pants. As he stared down at the black knee high boots of a full officer, the leather molded perfectly to his feet and polished to a near mirror shine. He didn't want to wear this, to do what his orders were telling him to do. But neither could he stop it.

He was an ISB officer now, the thing that made even Captains step carefully. He had the power to call anyone into question, to view anyone's motivations as suspect. It was his job to root out rebels and wrong-doers from within the ranks. And since he operated under the direct orders of Admiral Thrawn, he literally was the embodiment of judge and jury. If he performed well, proved himself dedicated and rational enough, he could add the additional duty of executioner to his duty list eventually.

He, my friend that had always sought a peaceful solution to every situation, was now the horror we were taught to fear since we first put on our uniforms.

Careful what you say, or an ISB officer will come for you…

I wrapped my arms around his waist tightly, hugging him from behind. Showing my support of him with my body since we were still under the influence of the ysalamiri that decorated the corridors of the officers' quarters. What I would have given in that moment to touch his thoughts, to try and smooth over his worry. And yet I knew him, understood the grim look on his features.

I didn't need to be in his thoughts to understand his hesitation this time. Much like what I went through with the Admiral, so he was undergoing now. Trying to reconcile past and future, trying to decide who and what he was. A trial of self to prove one's worth and loyalty. If I could come out of that fire of indecision stronger for it, then I knew he could, too.

"You are still Calim Tam," I whispered firmly. "At the center of it all, you are still my best friend. Don't get lost in the pomp and the fear that this uniform generates. You are still you. The Admiral would not have given you this assignment if he thought for a second you were the type to abuse it."

His lips compressed even firmer, his reflection showing his disbelief in my words. But his hand folded tightly over where mine were clasped around him. "If that were true, why are you kept away from us?"

I could only shrug. "A test? We pretty much delivered to him damning evidence that the Force could be used to undermine his authority, Cal. He isn't going to trust any of us together, not where direct control is out of his hands. We killed someone together when we had no true leader. Accident or not, it is what it is. Can you blame him for his reluctance?"

He sighed slightly, shoulder slumping a touch. "No, I don't suppose I can. I don't have to like this, though. Going ISB wasn't something I'd ever imagined for myself. Maybe Pieterson was right, Ari. We aren't leaving the Empire, regardless of when our conscriptions are up."

"Not now," I agreed softly. "But what else can we do? Knowing what you know of C'Baoth, can you just walk away from what he's doing? Even if you were given that option right now?"

He shook his head. "No. I couldn't."

"Then Pieterson was wrong. We aren't kept here against our wills any longer. We are here because this is where we want to be, where we need to be."

Again, I didn't need the link to know he was thinking about Skywalker right now, just as I was. Thinking about that offer he had made to us, warning us to stop what we were doing. Offering us a place with him if we wanted to be trained in how to use these powers of ours, offering to teach us how to fight C'Baoth the correct way. It was a temptation, at least for Tam. I wouldn't go, couldn't go now. I'd made my oaths before the Admiral of my own free will. I had made my choice.

I wouldn't stop Tam if he wanted to leave, though. It would kill me, break me apart inside to know that one day I would be fighting against him. But I would let him go.

"You should go," I said just as softly, letting the double implications of that statement sink in. "Reese should be finishing up with his unit soon and will be ready to meet you at your office. You shouldn't be late."

He winced at the word office, just as he'd winced at the knowledge that he was moving out of the crewman barracks. The three of us hadn't made it completely down the corridor when leaving the Admiral's command room before Tam's comlink had gone off. It had been the commissary officer, ordering him to report for a scan for his new uniforms, and to also pick up his codes for his new quarters and his new office.

Another indication that we were being split up on purpose.

I had started to follow him, but Reese's fingers had found mine. Interlocking and tugging me in the opposite direction. In silence we'd ridden the lift down to his quarters, an odd mirroring of that night when everything had changed between us in that abandoned hallway, standing like fellow crewman sharing the same space for that short ride. Our walk was professional as we reached his quarters. Until the doors closed, and Reese had grabbed handfuls of the front of my jumpsuit and pulled me into a crushing, bruising kiss.

His hands had trembled as he peeled me from my uniform, ripping the material in places. Frantic and… frightened. The power of it, the feeling of those hands as they touched every part of me as if to memorize, had stolen my ability to speak. And then he'd fallen to his knees, wrapped his arms around my waist, and just held me. His breath was ragged, his grip stronger than durasteel.

"I thought… when we lost contact… I thought he had killed you, too."

"I'm sorry," I whispered back, stroking my hand over the short military length of his hair. "I would have warned you if I could. I didn't mean—"

He'd silenced me with another kiss, lifting me up into his arms. And when we lay together in the bed, it wasn't just for comfort. He'd kept that promise he'd made to me, and the time had never been more right. When it was over, he'd held me tenderly, my head pillowed on his chest. His heartbeat my anchor in this new sea of change that was threatening to sweep us all away.

A short time later the door chime had sounded, and Reese let Tam in. Together the three of us had slept touching one another in some fashion. Reese and I on the bed, Tam on a sleeping roll on the deck next to us, holding my outstretched hand as I lay across Reese. His bed was too narrow for even him and me to lie together comfortably. But we had had practice curling around one another, and it wasn't that hard for me to reach out to Tam.

I thought of all this as Tam exited the quarters, and only then did I let my worry give way to tears. I had dreamed the dream again, the one in which we all stood in the Admiral's palm. The one in which we were the deciding weight that tipped the scales towards his victory or his death. Only this time it was much more vivid, as if we were approaching it quickly rather than just viewing it from afar. It would come to pass one way or the other. I just didn't know if our being in his palm tipped it towards his death or saved him from it.

And I had to decide now if I was going to tell the Admiral.

* * *

Walking onto the bridge felt… new this time. Nothing surreal, for this ship was now my home. Nothing tragic, for I had come to accept that Pieterson's death was his own fault. The Admiral had shown me that clearly enough. Even my conscription felt like a piece of history, something that no longer had the power to pull me down or frighten me. It simply _was_, an immovable fixed point in time that marked a significant choice in my existence. I was no longer mired in fear of discovery or failure.

The Admiral knew everything… well, almost everything. He still didn't know about my dreams, or the conversation with Skywalker. At least, I hoped that he didn't. Our relative success in not being executed for what we'd done together could be stripped away from us in a burning nanosecond if he felt we were omitting something.

So I wasn't exactly light of foot when I walked onto the bridge. I had a new set of worries, a new set of problems and decisions I had to face. But worry wasn't fear. Fear was untamable, wild, and blinding. Worry was concern, intelligence, and discipline. Worry was based on facts. Fear was based on the unknown, the impossible.

I had worries now instead of fears. I worried for Reese and Tam. I felt them in my head now that our walls were down, virtually saw them in my mind's eye walking down the corridors towards their destination. They were preparing, discussing through the link the best way to go about their assignment. So far they had settled on the notion that Tam was an inspecting officer and Reese his assigned muscle for the day. And beneath that, they had already laid a deadly contingency plan if needed.

They were licensed to kill now, and Reese was giving Tam the pep talk he so desperately needed if it came down to that.

I crossed to the command section, presented myself to the Admiral and the Captain. The first nodded to me in silence, the second merely glanced my way before looking back to his display. Though Pellaeon's eyes lingered on me from the corner of his eye, searching as they always had. But this time there wasn't the ever present feeling that he was looking for a flaw, a defect that he could call me to the floor over. This time there was a measuring, considering touch of respect in those eyes.

How much did he know? How much had the Admiral revealed? It was stupid set of questions, and I berated myself for them. Of course he would have been apprised of what was going on aboard his own ship, especially given that a newly minted ISB officer was about to scour the living hell out of the Engineering section of the _Chimaera_. He had to know at least the majority of it.

The better question was if he saw my actions towards him in the past in a different light. If he viewed my pulling of him into my painting as a protection or as a flaunting of my abilities. I couldn't know, and thusly tucked that question into a corner of my mind for another time. I had orders today, a real reason to be in the command section of the bridge. I had best get to them.

I took the appointed seat, tried not to feel the eyes of any passing officer washing over me. Still I sought out the Admiral, saw him watching me with that unreadable expression. I waited, holding my breath, holding his gaze. He nodded once. Acknowledging my asking of permission to use the Force near him, acknowledging his rank and my place in the Imperial Navy above the power that I had. Trying to be an officer first before I was anything else.

I leaned back, took a deep breath and closed my eyes. _I'm ready_, I sent.

I opened myself to the Force, drawing my insignificant bit as much as I could. Instinctively a new painting started to form, this one composed not of beaches and blue skies and sable palms. This one was the blackness of space, itself, sprinkled with stars like jewels cast over the finest velvet. I stood in the center of that vastness, a glittering comet shaped like a woman, ringed in the white particles of ice like cold flames.

My eyes opened slightly, all traces of tension vanishing. The Force was with me, and I could feel the burning of those stars, feel the turning of planets in their orbits. Like the mysteries of the universe unfolding. And just out of the corner of my eye, the void floated. A black hole that marred the majesty of what I had just created. Ever present, ever reminding me of how close I had come to touching the Dark Side.

Tam and Reese appeared a moment later, two indistinct stars on my horizon that pulsed faster than all the others. I hurled myself towards them, fingers of interstellar dust reaching to pluck these rare gems from the sky. To hold them, enfold them into my being, and release them outward in a supernova-like explosion. In the painting, I threw back my head, a soundless cry of pleasure and pain forced from my lips.

On the bridge, a soft exhalation of breath left my body as I felt their power begin to magnify. Soon the pleasure would twist, the balance tip, and pain would set fire to the stars around me. But for now they were merely holding the Force, preparing to draw more if needed. For now, I sat in the center of my universe and waited and watched. Feeling Tam and Reese move through the section of the ship assigned by the Admiral.

Feeling the touch of each mind as Tam brushed against them, the taint on their souls like an acrid burning pitch. The stars pulsed threateningly, flickering with the disdain that ran through me at each and every encounter with C'Baoth's projected madness. So many on this level were influenced, some much more than others. Some we hadn't been aware of, not having this level of unrestricted access before.

Reese growled softly in my mind, the image of him and Tam transforming into constellations of dire wolves, scenting the air, jaws gaping wide with laser sharp fangs. They were hunting, the proverbial dogs of war loosed by the Admiral for this very purpose. The more they picked up the scent of their prey, the more they hungered to continue the hunt.

I felt myself leaning forward in the chair, lips peeling back in a silent snarl.

"They have found something, Crewman?"

The Admiral's voice floated formlessly across the painting, the man himself still entrenched in the ysalamiri field.

"Yes," I whispered. "Those that you sent them to find are present today. They bear the same levels of taint as before. Except for one…"

In the painting, the wolf-Tam came to a silent stop, all his hackles raised. Maw gaping, dripping with saliva made of dead stars. Reese followed suit, and I felt the levels of taint in that one individual, felt them roll across me like decaying breath. Commander Dezrend Fhrendrel appeared like a black sun on my horizon, the two wolves circling him slowly. Rays of cosmic radiation crackled around Fhrendrel, poisonous and deadly, a halo made of the crushed bits of the man he used to be.

"According to Lieutenant Reese, Commander Fhrendrel is compromised the most," I whispered aloud. "He has orders imbedded in his mind, though we can't know the extent until we engage him."

Captain Pellaeon's soft curse drifted through the stars. "Can you take him down?"

The wolves heard the question, too, and after a moment of growled deliberation, they nodded. "Yes. But they recommend that this is done away from the others. Fhrendrel is dangerous."

"I will provide the opportunity," Admiral Thrawn said. "I want Commander Fhrendrel taken alive, his mind intact."

Again the wolves heard, and again they nodded. "It will be difficult and will take most of our strength for this day, but it can be done."

"Then do so."

I closed my eyes in time for the blackness of space to run red with pain.

* * *

A tube of cool water was pressed into my palm, snapping me back to full consciousness. I hadn't recalled passing out, but then I had never felt Tam and Reese draw that heavily on the Force nor pull that strongly through me. Then again, they had had no reason to hold back this time, no fear that the commotion caused by the full brunt of their attack would catch attention and bring ruin upon our heads.

Commander Fhrendrel had not been a delicate vase by any means before his corruption by C'Baoth. He had been as tough as old deck plating, his form appearing in my painting like a charging rancor made of iron. It had taken everything to corral him in that conference room the Admiral provided and it had taken more to stop him from killing himself rather than surrender the information we sought. I had tried to sculpt him back to his chosen form, shaping him into the battleship that his soul preferred. But at such a cost.

The taint had been too deep, the man under C'Baoth's influence too long. The more I shaped him, the more he disintegrated before my eyes. Bits of his life and his mind crumbling like clay dried too long in the sun. Dust in my fingers that no amount of clear water could regenerate. He drifted now like a weakened star, a tiny dot of light in the palms of my hands. No, in the palm of Reese's hand. C'Baoth's taint had struck hard, digging down into the very layers of his brain that provided autonomic functions. Literally, the Fhrendrel could not breathe, his heart could not beat, without C'Baoth's implanted will to make it so.

Now only Reese's power kept the man alive.

I was exhausted, hurting. Hungry. The same echoed through the bond from Tam and Reese. So much power needed… It was no wonder the insane bastard called himself a Jedi Master. He was. And that thought wasn't providing much comfort at the moment.

"They… they succeeded," I managed out, sipping from the water. "If you wish to question Commander Fhrendrel, it must be soon, sir. He… he isn't going to live much longer. C'Baoth… he… what he did…"

"I understand, Crewman," he replied.

His tone had me looking up, though to do so felt like a momentous effort. Like straining to see something far down a tunnel. I realized that he was standing right next to me, that he had been the one to put the water in my hands this time. My eyes tried to open wide, and my heart tried to push adrenaline through me. I was just too mentally exhausted. He was standing next to me, outside of the protection of the ysalamiri… while I was still in the grips of the Force. And I couldn't do a thing.

This couldn't be good.

I looked away quickly, not wanting to see him with dual eyes, not wanting to know how I would paint him this time. I still had a touch of fear in me from seeing him as an abstract, my mind still quaked at the alieness of his, from that one accidental brush with his thoughts. He looked like us, spoke like us. But he wasn't human, and his mind did not move in human ways. Not that this was a bad thing. It was just… unnerving. Unexpected.

"Look at me, Crewman," He said.

"I… am afraid to, sir."

"And why is that?"

"I still hold to the Force. I do not want to… ah…"

"To accidently draw me into your painting?"

I swallowed, and then sipped more water to try and buy time. "Yes, sir."

"What I would give to see it, your painting," he said, and then lifted an eyebrow at the way I flinched slightly. "You can grant me that vision?"

"I… don't know."

It was the truth, mostly. I probably couldn't give him the same perspective that C'Baoth had had, but I knew from the conversation with Organa Solo and the time I had pulled Captain Pellaeon into the painting that they could see some of it.

"Try."

I wanted to argue, to tell him that I wasn't strong enough. But I couldn't. All I could do was draw him in, inch by inch, as I had Captain Pellaeon that one time. His mind filled mine, a crashing overpowering force, like a wave of energy exploding outward in a container too small to hold it, shaking the stars as if they were buoys tossed about in a hurricane. I gasped, eyes snapping shut, rocked by the explosion, the edges of the painting stretching until the canvas nearly frayed. No, it was my sanity that nearly frayed, trying once again to quantify him into relatable human terms.

It was only when I gave up trying to shape him that the painting stabilized. When I opened my eyes again, I saw not my peaceful stars. I saw the planets in my dream, the strange alien ships darting between them. My eyes searched frantically, afraid that I would see him larger than life, that I would be standing in his palm like in that dream. But I simply stood at the center of the painting as before, watching the spinning odd planets. And he was nowhere to be found.

"Sir?"

"Most interesting," he said, his voice coming from everywhere, echoing inside my thoughts. "I can feel the shielding you are providing. Your technique, as I have said before, is nearly flawless."

And then I realized it came from everywhere because he was everywhere. My mind had turned him into a constellation of his own, but my limited understanding of him had made my entire painting just a tiny corner of that universe-spanning collection of stars. Yet I had to ask: was he in my painting, or was I in his mind? Was there a difference? Did it matter?

Did he see that fragment of my dream before I'd banished the thought?

"You did well," he continued, his palm landing on my shoulder. Partly to help me remain upright in my seat. I hadn't been aware I was sliding down. Partly because the physical contact between us intensified the connection. "A most excellent display of talent."

"But we failed, sir. Fhrendrel is going to die, just like Orn."

"A calculated risk," he replied. "In war, young Idelas, one understands that not all the men under one's command will make it back alive. Commander Fhrendrel, much like Ensign Orn, is a casualty of a different sort of war. A war, I might add, that you have just provided me with the tools to win. Their deaths are not on your shoulders, nor your companions."

He straightened. "Can you walk, Crewman Idelas? I would like you to join me and the others while I question Commander Fhrendrel."

"I… think so, sir."

I rose to my feet, unsteady at first. And knew without having to ask that he wished me to continue to hold onto the Force, to continue to provide the shielding. Especially when he did not signal the stormtroopers with their ysalamiri frames to follow. Only Rukh joined our group as we headed into the turbolift. And I knew then that this was another test. He was going to walk into the conference room where Fhrendrel was being held, into a room with two Force users.

And I was to provide his protection.


	22. Chapter 22 - Questions and Answers

A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews and private messages. I sound like a broken record going on about that every time, but it really does help to know that people enjoy this story. :) So thank you again more than I can ever say. I try to answer each and every one of them. I would like to give a special shout out to **WingedJedi** and **Senchou** for making me smile on a particularly bad day when all I wanted to do was cry. You guys rock!

This is the point in time where the story starts to go slightly AU. I hope you all enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

The hum of the turbolift was utterly soothing, a background noise of which I'd taken for granted all my time on this ship. In that moment, it was the most amazing sound I had ever heard, the diminutive vibrations as the car passed through the many decks of the Chimaera feeling like tiny waves lulling my body to peacefulness. I needed that peace, desperately clung to that brief reprieve between what I had done and what I would do in a matter of minutes.

I didn't want to take part in this interrogation, I really didn't. From the amount of power used to subdue Commander Fhrendrel, he must have been under C'Baoth's control for a very long time. And that meant that it was possible that he may suffer the same horrible fate of Ensign Orn once the interrogation began. C'Baoth was just vile enough to leave implanted self-destruct commands inside his puppets, treating non-Force using humans as if they were flawed droids. I wasn't certain I could hold it together in the face of another death like Orn's.

In the painting, the stars ceased their frantic turning, staring down at me like a thousand glowing red eyes.

Studying me, I realized, curiosity in their burning depths. And faint disapproval when they recognized my reluctance to perform this assigned duty. I stared back at them, transfixed, hardly aware that in reality I was doing nothing more than staring into the Admiral's glowing gaze.

Stars, I was tired. But there was nothing I could do to avoid this confrontation with Fhrendrel and we both knew it. So when I felt his metaphorical hands slide down the sides of my mind, I didn't bother to suppress the shiver. He offered no apology for it, either, nor did he stop when I gasped aloud, trying to come to terms with what felt like fingers touching my soul. My eyes closed, my body leaning back against that turbolift wall, sinking into the dual sensations of the vibrations and the mental caress.

The scarlet stars pulsed once, a reflection of his deepening interest as those fingers tested the limitations and boundaries of my painting, learning his place within it.

His… place?

How odd it was that already I had accepted him as part of it. No, as the _owner_ of it. Did that mean I felt that he owned _me_? Then again, I was committed to my future in the Empire. Was that not a surrendering of myself and my mind to his guidance? Yes, I admitted quickly… and no. I had not intended to reach this level of surrender of myself. I had meant only to follow Ensign Colcalzure's advice all those months ago when he first agreed to teach me. When he had told me that the only thing holding me back now was my inability to divorce myself of my previous life.

I had done that. I had finally separated myself from the girl I once was and embraced the woman I was now. Wasn't that the reason that I now painted stars in my head rather than oceans? The Chimaera did not exist within a planet. It existed in space, and the Chimaera was now my home. So why now did I suddenly feel this desire to push him away? After all I had gone through, all the changes I had made and all the reasons to accept my place in the Empire, did I start to rebel again?

Maybe it was because this was all so… sudden, this feeling of him touching the creative part of my soul. It was at the same time overtly familiar and unnerving. Not even Reese had touched my mind like this when we were intimate.

Another pulse of red among those stars, and a sharp flash of something that I could not readily identify. It was more than disapproval and less than muted curiosity as he picked up on the images my thoughts displayed in my tiny corner of my own painting. And a feeling of slight dread ghosted across my painting as the stars shifted to stare at the durasteel wall that was Reese.

Both men had immediately sensed my distress and the reason behind it when the Admiral asked to see my painting. Instantly two walls had slammed into place on either side of the painting, closing themselves off from me and from the Admiral. Durasteel that was Reese's chosen form of protection, brick and mortar that was Tam's. Clearing out of the way to allow the Admiral to have complete privacy… or maybe protecting themselves from this very moment?

With their walls in place, I did not know how Reese or Tam reacted to his touch to their mental barriers. All I knew was the echo that reverberated in the painting. It wasn't exactly unpleasant, nor was it something I was accustomed to feeling.

I gasped again as the probing caress moved to the different stars and planets in the painting, closing my eyes tightly and pressing myself against the wall of the turbolift as if it were the only thing holding me to the universe. Fear started to flicker into being, ugly gray blotches that appeared randomly to mar the perfect surface of the canvas. My hands wanted so much to grab his, to pull them away from my soul. But touching in the physical world would do nothing against his probes and only heighten his presence in the painting. Right then I didn't think I could handle that. I might drown in him and this strange non-touching, and I wasn't sure what would remain of me when I surfaced again.

"I see," he said at last into the silence.

He did? If I asked, would he ever explain it to me? Probably not.

He chuckled softly at that, picking up on that thought, too. "It appears we have more to discuss than I originally thought."

All probing suddenly stopped, his mind withdrawing to the boundary of his own stars, taking with it the scarlet shadow that had tinted my stars with the color of his eyes. It elicited one more gasp from me, my knees nearly buckling. Oh stars, I was so tired! But it wasn't time to rest. This was another test, I was certain of it. And I would pass it or die trying. Reese and Tam had met their new tests with head-on determination, functioning as a unit separate from me. Why should I be any different?

With supreme effort, I drew myself back up to full attention. Proud that only my hands trembled at my sides as a show of just how mentally and emotionally drained I was. "Yes, sir," I said.

He regarded me a long moment, and a partial caress touched the painting again. This time light and assessing more than trying to analyze all at once. "Are you certain you are well enough to continue, Crewman?"

No. Not by a long shot. And his lingering curiosity wasn't helping any. "Yes, sir," was what came out of my mouth instead. "I will not fail you, sir."

That earned a slight upturning of his mouth. An almost smile. Though for the life of me I was too tired to try and weave through the complex patterns that were his emotions, to try and tell if the expression was serious or faintly amused or even condescending. "Your devotion and loyalty to me are admirable. Very well, crewman," he said, handing to me the data pad he carried. "Prepare yourself."

The doors opened a moment later and I wasn't certain what I was supposed to do when we crossed into the conference room. I was moving as part of a Grand Admiral's entourage. I was… security of a sense. And nothing I had learned in my training or my small moments assisting him had prepared me for this. Did I follow my Admiral to the table? Did I stand at his back?

What if he left the limited range of my painting?

Desperately I wished I could call upon Reese and all his experience. But to do that would display our communications before the Grand Admiral. I… didn't know how Reese would feel about that. Stars, I didn't know how _I _felt about that. And even if I tried to speak with him, I had a feeling my pleas would fall on deaf ears. Or be met with sharp reprimands of annoyance. He'd told me before that I would have to trust my training one day, that I would eventually be alone to make an important decision.

Guess today was that day.

I paused and let Rukh choose which side of the door he liked best, and with a perfect military turn to hide that moment of pause, I turned to flank the other side. Without really knowing why, I came to a perfect military attention, head held high and shoulders back, hands behind me. My eyes stared straight ahead, mirroring the pose I had seen stormtroopers use when standing on guard on the bridge.

Never in my life had I been so thankful for all those long painful hours of standing at attention at Ensign Colclazure's side, rattling off information for his reports until I thought my eyes would cross. Now such a stance was part of me, a reflex action that I could take solace within. Unbelievably, it was restful in a way, my muscles used to this pose. And I needed that rest, badly.

A flickering of amusement cascaded through the painting, like light cast through the clouds of a nebula. It was the Admiral, or rather the Admiral's change in thought patterns. This wasn't the same intense probing for understanding. No, he was focused solely on the interrogation at hand, and as such his representation in the painting shifted to accommodate that. He had caught all those thoughts, however, from my worry at how to be the proper attendant down to my relief at Colclazure's harsh lessons.

The ice around my comet-like form fizzled red, my embarrassment at not guarding my thoughts transferred to the painting rather than appearing on my face. At least in that I had learned something useful. The amusement turned into approval, which in turn became the feeling of a stern warning to keep my thoughts orderly and in check. Inwardly, I retreated to a corner of the painting, forming a field of asteroids around me in thick concentric circles. Effectively walling away my thoughts.

I had to remember that I was providing protection. I would have to be more like Rukh, to learn to observe without seeing. To take note of what was of worth in a situation and instantly forget the rest, to be utterly invisible in plain sight. Or in this case, utterly invisible in my own mind, which was a lot harder than it sounded.

A final flicker of approval, followed by… a sense of waiting. Waiting for me to become adjusted to this so he could begin his interrogation. My eyes wanted to close when I took a deep breath, yet I wouldn't let them. Rukh never closed his eyes. He was always watchful. Vigilant. I kept my eyes open and fell back on the memories of the Admiral urging me to slip between the ysalamiri bubbles, to cast my mind outward rather than inward. I did that now, wrapping the painting in a protective case, securing it in my mind, and then turned away from it.

Looking for attacks from without rather than looking inward at the painting.

"Commander Fhrendrel," The Admiral began. "I believe you have something to tell me."

Sad eyes, tired eyes, eyes that looked as if they had aged a thousand years in an hour, tried hard to focus on our Supreme Commander. Fhrendrel's lips parted, a tiny stream of drool coming from the corner of his mouth. It took him several tries to find his voice, and only found it after Reese placed a hand on his shoulder. His eyes focused sharply then, his posture almost straight.

A bead of sweat glistened on Reese's forehead, the outward showing of the strain it took him now to keep the man alive without being able to draw power through me. Reflex had me wanting to reach out to him. Training to follow orders kept that from happening. I wasn't part of the team in this moment. I was a bodyguard.

I had to remember that… and push past the sorrow that this was once again a way to separate us.

"Admira…" Fhrendrel tried, part of the title falling off unheard. "You have my… expressed… apologies. I request… death."

A blue-black eyebrow lifted. "It will be considered, Commander. After you tell me what you know."

Pain wrenched Fhrendrel's expression from sorrow to horror. "I… He… Clones. He knows about… the clones."

"So he does," Thrawn replied noncommittally. "What else."

"Knew I… was on the team… the mountain at Wayland. Maste—He wanted… clones for himself."

An unnatural silence fell over the already quiet room, as if death hovered in the air awaiting the moment to claim his due. Even Rukh felt as if he was holding his breath. Clones? Why would he want clones of all things? And of who? What would be the point? And why did he think clones would be in the mountain on Wayland of all places?

Weren't all the clones dead by now, the knowledge of how to make them gone from the universe?

"Of who?" Thrawn asked softly, reaching a hand casually back behind him.

I moved without thinking, placing the data pad into his hand. And then stayed at his back at the mental urging. Anticipation danced across his stars, pulsing in patterns that were unknown to me. The asteroids that were my personal wall took on a flat shape, steel edges made of my will forming in serrated-like patters around their edges. I had no idea why I suddenly felt threatened. I just did.

And apparently, so did the Admiral.

I focused hard on the painting, redoubling my efforts to keep him safe within it. Around me, the asteroids began to fan out, seeking a target to strike.

"Tell me, Commander, if this is what I think it is."

He slid the data pad across to Fhrendrel, the one containing the data card Tam and I had confiscated from Ensign Orn months ago.

The look of pain on Fhrendrel's face was horrific already, and it nearly tripled when he glanced down at the information. The man grabbed his head and shrieked. Tossing it back and forth in his hands as if he could batter the pain out of his skull. Fighting against some programmed biological bomb going off in his brain.

Stars, it _was_ like watching Ensign Orn die all over again.

The Noghri showed no reaction at all. Not so much as a blink. A statue in the corner, a work of art modeled after death incarnate. I tried, tried my damnest to be like Rukh, like stone untouched by the emotional carnage going on before us. But the memories of Orn were still too sharp, too horrible. I managed only to stand at attention, my hands shaking badly behind my back. Swallowing hard.

Fhrendrel stopped screaming abruptly when Tam's hand slammed down on his shoulder. That action forced Fhrendrel to sit up sharply, almost unnaturally so. The frown on Tam's mouth let me know he had taken control of the man's body, holding him with the Force to allow Reese to repair whatever had exploded in his mind.

And the Admiral sat patiently. Watching with dispassionate eyes. Nothing more.

I would be a blasted fool to believe he wasn't recording and considering every little thing that took place, from my frantic attempts to block my emotions, to Tam and Reese's mad scramble to get Fhrendrel back under nominal control.

"Y… y…yes," Fhrendrel replied at last, the words coming from a clenched jaw, his voice so high pitched that I knew he was still screaming inside his own head. Struggling to confess and struggling to serve his Master, the conflict eroding his very life. "He wants to clone you and kill you. Replace you with a clone that will serve him. He wants to do that to all the captains in the fleet. Those he had already touched in the mind are working towards that goal against their will. Without even knowing it. And I helped them! Please, I beg for death. Let me die rather than live with this. Let me die as the man I am, not live as some twisted servant."

Tears spilled down Fhrendrel's face, all dignity gone. Sobbing and… and broken. Begging. "I served the Empire in life. Let me serve it in death. Please…"

"Tell me where his cloning facilities are located, specifically the one pertaining to his information." He tapped the data pad.

A high pitched keening sound left that tortured mouth. "That… I do not… know."

Thrawn flicked a glance at Tam.

"He tells the truth, sir," Tam replied, voice only showing a hint of the strain that made him stand a little straighter, too. "He does not know. Nor does he know who has that information. He confirmed that the clones are in the process of growing as we speak."

Thrawn tapped a finger on the conference room table, considering the information. In the painting, the stars whipped past me, nearly turning into the star lines of pre-hyperspace. I clung to my asteroids, grounded myself in place. And did my best not to decipher the thoughts that made his stars do that.

"Very well," he said at last, rising to his feet. "Rukh."

I honestly expected the noghri to leap forward and slice Fhrendrel's throat like he had Pieterson's. I even braced for the spray of blood that may make it across the table and touch me. Rukh only moved forward to lay a very familiar silvery blade in the Admiral's palm.

Thrawn rose, walking around the table towards Fhrendrel. The stars started to dissipate, as if he were walking out of my range. I started forwards as well, trying not to tremble too much. Not in fear this time but in relief. This wasn't going to end as it had for Orn. The Admiral was going to grant mercy with his own hand. He was going to show this man honor in his final moments. And later I knew I would mourn for Fhrendrel, add his name to the list like Kalkins and Orn and Hollinger. Then I would mourn for myself, for finding relief in knowing that a man's life was about to come to an end.

"Ensign Tam, let your report indicate that Commander Dezrend Fhrendrel cooperated fully with your investigation. His record was cleared of all wrongdoing. During the course of your investigation, Commander Fhrendrel died protecting this ship and its crew. He was promoted posthumously to the rank of Captain in honor of his sacrifice."

The look on Fhrendrel's face, the sudden serenity at the Admiral's words, the knowledge that the waking nightmare his life had become was about to end, broke through my control. A tear made it past my defenses, a single one trailing down my cheek.

Fhrendrel saw it though, those dead eyes looking at my face before tracking back to the Admiral's. "Thank you," he sighed out in near reverence. "Thank you, sir."

I'd never know if it was Tam and Reese holding so tightly to the shell that had been Captain Dezrend Fhrendrel, or if in his last moments of life the man he had been came to the surface of all that madness. He made not a sound as the blade slid expertly into the back of his neck, severing the spinal cord in a split second. He was dead before he ever registered the pain.

Thrawn withdrew the blade, accepting the offered handkerchief from Reese. "Thank you," he replied, wiping the weapon clean and handing it back to Rukh. "See to it that his will and testament are followed to the letter."

"Yes, sir," Reese replied.

"Excellent work thus far, Ensign Tam. Continue with your investigation. I want the location of C'Baoth's cloning facilities as soon as possible. Make that your primary focus. Lieutenant Reese, I will have a task for you shortly. For now, continue to assist Ensign Tam in his endeavors."

"Yes, sir," This from Reese again.

"Thank you, sir," Tam said. "May I request the assistance of Crewman Idelas on this task?"

"Crewman Idelas has other assignments at present," he said by way of denial. "Your progress here shows promise, and as such I will have a team supplied to assist your needs. If and when the crewman's duties allow, I will send her to you."

I was reminded of a similar promise the Admiral had made about me, the one to C'Baoth. The one that never saw fruition.

"Yes, sir."

With that, he turned and headed for the doors. I shot an apologetic look to Tam and Reese before collecting the data pad and turning to follow him. There was nothing I could do but hope that I had time to speak with Tam and Reese soon. Something told me that that may not be an option, that my schedule was about to change to accommodate these new 'assignments.'

* * *

I missed a step when the Admiral passed back into the ysalamiri field on the bridge. It had been jarring to all of the sudden feel him vanish from my mind. Just… like he had never existed and I had been reserving this giant vacancy in my mind for no reason. It was strange how accustomed a person could become to something—even if that something was largely terrifying at times—and how empty one felt when it was unexpectedly gone.

Rukh caught my wrist before I landed face-first onto the deck, yanking me backward until I was upright. The whole incident couldn't have taken more than a second, and Rukh was so quick that I'd barely had time to tilt forward before I was standing straight. But I was certain that the Admiral caught that slip, just as I was certain that the odd look on Rukh's face was exasperated annoyance. Clearly if I was to be part of a Grand Admiral's entourage and protection, I had a lot that I had to learn… and quickly.

_If_ that was indeed his plan for me. After being dismissed from his service, I wasn't entire sure anymore.

Given that it was only halfway through my shift, I decided that my dismissal wasn't to give me the rest of the day free. While my head was spinning and I felt like I could sleep for hours, I said a silent thank you to Rukh and made my way to my station. There was a new face seated in Pieterson's former station, a young man bearing the Crewman's jumpsuit.

A young man that instantly leapt to his feet when I stopped beside his station. He'd literally shot up so fast that I almost took a step backward. "Crewman Braen Olden, sir," He said sharply, heels coming together in a rather close approximation of a formal salute.

I looked him up and down, from head to foot as the saying went. He paled under my gaze, swallowing hard. And it took me a moment to realize he was doing it out of fear. That he was possibly praying that I wasn't going to find some flaw in him to call him out on. Over his shoulder, I caught Ensign Colclazure passing his gloved hand across his chin, as if contemplating something.

Or, more likely, hiding a grin.

"As you were, Crewman," I forced out, hoping my eyes weren't as wide as they felt.

Young Crewman Olden… afraid of _me_? It was unthinkable!

"I see you have met Pieterson's replacement," Colclazure said neutrally, his eyes carrying the barest hint of suppressed laughter. "I recruited the young man myself. He should be an excellent addition to our unit."

"Yes, sir," I said, standing at ease at his side. Shaking my head only slightly.

This time he did smile, the tight one that was favored by the command staff it seemed. "He is afraid of you."

"I noticed, sir," I couldn't keep my mouth from twisting in a frown. "I wasn't aware that my slight increase in rank ahead of him made for that level of fear."

Colclazure shook his head, chuckling softly. "You spend more time in the Grand Admiral's company than you do with your own unit, Idelas. It's beginning to show in your demeanor. The look you gave Olden was a fair approximation of the Captain's stare. That is enough to have anyone look on you with fear, or at the very least jealousy."

This time I couldn't suppress the grimace. How many other officers on this ship felt that way? Did Colclauzre feel that way? I didn't want to know. "Permission to take my station, sir?"

"Denied," he replied, handing me a data card instead. "Reports are due for the quarter. I expect them to be perfect this time."

I swallowed the sigh before it could escape. Just what I needed on top of everything else, an entire evening of writing reports. "Yes, sir."

_Do not forget our appointment, little one_, Reese cut into my thoughts. _Our actions today do not excuse us from the punishments set out by the Grand Admiral. I expect you to meet me in the workout facility after you finish your reporting. And afterwards, the three of us must talk._

At least I waited until the doors to the turbolift closed behind me before I groaned.


	23. Chapter 23 Mending the Rift

A/N: A relatively short chapter compaired to others. But this is definitely for the Pellaeon fans out there. As always, thanks to all for the private messages and reviews. It helps to know that this story is as enjoyed by others as it is by me.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

The last thing I expected was a Noghri present during our punishment sessions.

Though to be fair, I should probably stop thinking of it as a punishment. Reese certainly wasn't. At least, not in the traditional sense. I knew well that he would rather spend his free time researching past battles or reviewing new experimental fighting strategies. If he had been a civilian, I would have considered him a collector of wartime memorabilia and stories. He truly enjoyed reading up on current trends in weapons manufacturing, or what new style of hand-to-hand combat was in vogue in the galaxy.

I would have preferred to paint, honestly. How long had it been since I'd done anything artistic? I mean, artistic for me and not some Force-driven power in my head? Too long, that was what. And it was beginning to show.

Reese's latest blow sent me down to one knee facing him, my thigh screaming out in abuse. "Keep your attention on your attacker, little one. Not—" he cut off and spun around, taking down Tam neatly with a sweep of the padded staff, and then turning back to me. "Not on the events around you."

He meant the Noghri, feeling my intense unease and worry through the bond. But being kind enough not to say it out loud.

I swung my practice blade at him, the thing weighted and designed to feel like a real vibro-knife. He saw the blow coming, twisted to counter it. I dipped my shoulder under his move, spinning on my knee to bring myself in under his guard, the blade poised to jab him in the gut. The staff came down at an angle faster than I could imagine. The lower edge of it slammed into my wrist, making my whole hand go numb. The blade tumbled from my fingers as the staff suddenly jerked upward, catching me under the chin. My gasp was cut short, the staff pressing into my throat, effectively pinning me back against him.

Reflex wanted my hands to fly to that bar blocking my windpipe, much like it had when Vyns had grabbed my throat in our last training session together. That had been a huge mistake and Reese had made me pay for it. Instead, I trust my elbow behind me, aiming at the side of his knee.

It was the right move, and rather than loose that knee I felt his opposite one slam hard into my upper back. Attempting to throw me harder into the staff. I slid down as he jumped back, twisting my upper body and head to the side in order to slip out of that ever narrowing space between the staff and him. The downside of that was that it left me prone on the ground and Reese took advantage of that. The upside was that it left me prone on the ground… and drew him in for the deceptively easy kill.

He obliged my faint, coming in as any attacker would. The staff came down at my face, the end ready to pound my skull until I lost consciousness. Again, I rolled to the side and again did so into his personal space. My hands latched onto his foot and gave a good twist. For once Reese went down with a muttered curse, and by that time Tam was back on his feet, bringing his own weapon to bear on our would-be attacker. I backed the hell out of the way. I had no weapon in my hand, and as Reese had shown me time and again, I was not strong enough to press the advantage of a grappling maneuver on a man that outweighed me nearly twice over.

Unfortunately Tam hadn't really gotten that bit through his head yet. In a moment he was the one on the ground and Reese had the blade at his throat.

I lunged for my own weapon, and was rewarded with the sharp pain and slight vibrating feeling as Reese tagged the back of my neck with the practice blade. Signaling that I was pretty much dead. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the as yet unknown Noghri shake his head ever so slightly.

"Better," Reese said, dropping the knife in front of me and reaching down to retrieve the staff. "But not good enough. Your old reflexes are getting in the way of your new skills, little one. And you," he said, pointing the staff down at Tam where he lay on his back, panting. "You must learn not to charge your opponent straight on. You leave yourself no room to either alter your attack or keep an eye on what is going on around you."

"I thought…" I trailed off as I tried to work moisture into a parched throat, breathing heavily. "I thought we weren't supposed to focus on the events around us?"

He shook his head. "You miss the point. You, little one, have the unfortunate habit of narrowing your focus onto only one specific event in your surroundings, so much so that you ignore your aggressor. While you, Tam, focus on everything to the exclusion of important details like body language and possible alternate attacks. Sloppy on both your accounts. I will have to alter this training program to accommodate these weaknesses. Perhaps Vyns and Chib will assist me."

"Please, not them," I flopped down on the mat, my head landing softly on Tam's shoulder. "Anything but them. Have mercy."

A glitter of amusement worked its way into Reese's eyes. "And why not?"

"Because I'll end up playing for it—in more than one way. The last time Chib was involved in my 'training,' I ended up polishing his boots and his armor for as many hours of my free time as he wasted of his training me."

The amusement turned into a wide grin. "Then that makes them an excellent choice. These two hours here are not for our pleasure. The Admiral wishes us to learn further discipline. So we shall learn it."

"Until you are satisfied?" Tam dared to ask.

Reese shrugged, swinging the staff up and around in a ready stance. "The Admiral trusts my instincts and experience. If he wishes me to make warriors out of you two, then I'll do so. And I will not present you both before him until I am certain I have completed that task. Now, on your feet. We are not finished."

I looked at Tam, found him looking at me with the same horrified expression. Yet we both climbed to our feet, retrieving our training weapons and taking up the stances that Reese had taught us at the beginning of the night. Neither of us felt positive about the outcome of this round. And we both ended up on the mats not ten minutes later, new sets of bruises and aches letting us know exactly where there was room to improve in our guard stances.

And through it all that Noghri watched in silence.

* * *

By the time Reese released us, all I wanted was food and sleep. The first would be possible in but a few minutes, the latter… well, it probably wouldn't happen. Not restful sleep in any case. Reese's final orders of the night included keeping the link wide open between us, in order to experience each other's aches and pains. Oh, and we were forbidden to use bacta treatments. The bruises needed to heal on their own. Little painful reminders than had we been in a real combat situation, we would have been dead.

Not for the first time did I curse the Admiral's name for putting Reese in charge of this punishment. Days in the brig and permanent reprimands on our records were beginning to sound like the better alternatives.

But Orn's face popped up in my mind, the horror of his death at our uneducated and misguided but well meaning hands. And then the noble death of Fhrendrel at the Admiral's own hand. Both were lessons now, reminders that we were not qualified to lead ourselves in these endeavors. Would Orn had found such a peaceful death if the Admiral had been with us that time? I wanted to say no. But the look in Fhrendrel's eyes at the end… the serenity and dignity and peace the Admiral had granted him in his final moment…

I sighed heavily. No, I would take million beatings like this one tonight if it meant all our other interrogations were as kind as today's.

And with that, I realized that I wasn't going to sleep at all. Instead I had a night full of confrontations with the ghosts of my past actions and decisions, processing all that had happened and all that was going to come in the future. Fhrendrel had said flat out that there were Captains under C'baoth's influence now. Entire ships lead by madmen… or at least men working under mad influence. It was enough to pull a groan from my lips as I stepped blindly onto the lift.

Captain Pellaeon didn't so much as bat an eyelash at the way I pulled up short at his presence. And I? I was far too tired and too sore to show any reaction. After the fight to save Fhrendrel, the personal ordeal of realizing that people on this ship were afraid of me, the workout session with Reese, and then the mind-numbing hours of reporting, I had nothing left in me to show an ounce of emotion.

I quickly keyed for the main mess hall.

Pellaeon's eyebrows drew together at that, and he turned his head in my direction. "Late night, Crewman?"

I tried to stand at attention, barely made parade rest before my eyes started to cross. "Yes, sir."

He nodded at that. "I assume it was duty that kept you up instead of resting as you should be."

"Yes, sir," I said again.

There was no other option to state, no further explanation I could give. I waited for the reprimand, the words that dripped with his continued displeasure. Even though his gaze hit me more with curious speculation than outright anger these days, I would never be able to apologize enough for invading his mind. No matter what the Admiral had said to the contrary. So I didn't try. I just stood there, accepting and owning his displeasure, trying to keep my physical distress from showing on my face.

When the lift came to a halt, the last thing I expected was for him to turn towards me. "Come with me, Crewman."

I did as was ordered, starting to mute the link with Tam and Reese, sending them a mental snapshot of my situation and the reason why I was disobeying Reese's command. That woke Reese from a dead sleep, his worry and annoyance drifting across my thoughts. Tam, surprisingly enough, wasn't in his quarters. I had no idea what he was doing down in the spare parts depot off one of the hangar bays. But figuring out whatever he was doing would have to wait for later.

I was following my Captain. For good or for ill.

And came to a dead stop when I realized he was leading me to the nearest infirmary. "I can't," I said before I could stop myself.

That got his attention, had him spinning to face me with all the regal dignity that came with his years of experience and his rank. "Excuse me, crewman?"

There was no going back now. The sabacc chip had been cast into the pot. No taking it back. "I can't, sir," I said softly, standing up straight, probably going as pale as I ever had.

"It's obvious by the way you move that you are injured, Crewman Idelas. What possible explanation can you have for refusing medical treatment?"

I met his eyes, and I would have liked to say that my words came out with strength. But the truth was that I was too tired to fight. "I made a promise, sir," I explained simply. "A fellow officer has offered to teach me the discipline that I lack. The bruises are a reminder that I have so much more to learn."

Surprisingly, that took a thin layer of ice from his eyes. "You are seeking extra lessons from someone other than your officer?"

"Yes, sir. I am taking every opportunity to improve my flaws. I have many. Imperial training has taught me that."

He stood there, regarding me, pursing his lips slightly. "Will you be able to conduct your duties on the morrow with these bruises? I'll remind you, Crewman, that I do not like slackers on my bridge. Wounds from unnecessary lessons will not be an acceptable excuse if you fall face first at your station."

"Unnecessary lessons?" Did he really just say that? Did I really just echo him like a halfwit? "Sir, I was under the impression that I had failed you. I will not let that happen again. And so I'm seeking ways to improve—"

He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "And your word means that much to you?" he asked, cutting me off. "So much so that you would risk failing me, as you put it, by attending your station in a less than ready capacity?"

The only answer I could give was the truth. "Yes, sir. Without my word, I am nothing."

Again he stared at me. Again, I stood as straight as I could. "Come with me," he said again, starting away from the medical center.

He led me back towards the mess hall, and into the dining area. And to my shock and somewhat dismay, he took the same tray of food that I did and sat in the Slums. But there was no one present at this time of ship's night to see us, save for the serving and cleaning droids.

"Sit," he said.

I sat, staring down at my tray in disbelief. "Thank you, sir."

We ate in silence for a long time.

"Why?" he asked at last.

I paused with my fork halfway to my lips. "Sir?"

"The extra lessons from someone in the Army. Don't look so surprised," he said, a tight dark smile on his lips. "I have been in service long enough to recognize the signs, Crewman. Whoever has taken you under his wing isn't in the Fleet. And he's pushing you like a cadet of old in the Academy."

Oh, how true those words. Between Colclazure's lessons in tactics and history, and Reese's physical training, I very much felt like I was in an academy of sorts.

"I hated it here, at first," I found myself explaining, finding it easier to talk to my meal than meet that gaze. "I'm a conscript, sir. I had no choice. But I have started to learn things, things that make me better than I was. I was selfish, undisciplined, and ignorant when I was brought here. Now… now I'm learning that I have flaws that I don't like. Someone else sees those flaws, too, and has offered to help me correct them. Should I have refused the offer?"

"That depends," he said, taking another bite and chewing thoughtfully. "Have you learned anything?"

I couldn't stop the sardonic smile. "Too much, sir, if I may be so bold as to say."

He chuckled. "That does happen, Crewman. Even to those of us that think we have nothing left to learn."

We ate in silence again, both lost in our own thoughts. It wasn't a companionable silence. But it was what it was.

"Why?" I dared to ask at length.

Those eyebrows rose. "Excuse me?"

"Why did you invite me to dine with you?"

He took the moment to wipe his mouth with his napkin, considering me as he did so. "You have already proven yourself to be more than a conscript. To be honest, I invited you to this meal because I was curious as to why. Most people in your position would have given up thoughts of improvement after upsetting their Captain. You didn't. You took the exact opposite route. If I didn't know any better, I would swear that you have promotion on your mind and a full military career in your heart."

I wanted to tell him he was wrong. The instinct to say exactly that frozen on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to say that I wanted to go home. But the prospect of the career kept sparkling before my eyes, and the truth of the matter was that I was already home. In my heart, the _Chimaera_ was home. The uniform was home. The discipline was home. And the thought of wearing Captain's bars one day…it made my heart beat faster. Maybe that was why I painted the stars in my head instead of some other location on my homeworld.

I was dead there. I was not the girl I had been, and if I went back, would my family ever accept the me that I was now? The woman that had killed before and witnessed a mercy killing this very day?

In my mind, I held a funeral for the me that was. Following Reese's tradition and laying to rest my past.

I looked back down at my tray. "Yes, sir."

"That sounded like it was hard to admit, Crewman."

"It was, sir. But it's the truth now. I…" I bit my lip. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

Those eyebrows rose again. "Now this is interesting. Your next sentence is going to be something outside of normal conversation, given that I thought we were already speaking freely."

I blushed. I couldn't help it at that. And looked up into those hard eyes. "Would you tell me about the Academy, sir?"

"I'm assuming you refer to the Academy on Carida," he said. "Why do you want to know?"

"Curiosity, sir. And… wanting to know what I missed. I can't ever go back to what I was, not after everything I've experienced and learned. I want to go forward, to connect with those I serve under and with. It seemed a logical starting point."

He mulled that over for a while, and we ate in silence.

"Tell me, Crewman, what has your officer taught you of history?"

It was a complete shift in conversation, one that caught me totally off guard. One that had me walking away with something new to study. Aside from the mystery data on the Grand Admiral's datacard. I still had that to consider, I realized with a sigh. He was going to ask me about it soon, and I better have something intelligent to say. I thought of both as I made my way to my bunk, reopening the link and trying not to stagger under the weight of Tam's pain along with my own. But I felt oddly better for the conversation, renewed even, in my desire to serve my best on this ship.

_Ari, one last thing._ Tam whispered into my thoughts. _Find me in the meeting place._

He wasn't in our secret/no so secret any longer closet when I arrived. But something else was there, something that made my eyes fill with tears. A makeshift easel. Several sheets of super thin metal shaped roughly like squares of canvas. Paint in the limited colors of the Imperial fleet rested in small jars by it. A paintbrush and a chalk-like substance for sketching sat atop the paint jars.

_Cal, I…_ I couldn't think of the right words. Even my mental voice was choked with emotion.

_Don't say anything. Paint it instead._

For the first time in months, I did exactly that.


	24. Chapter 24 - Learning Boundaries

A/N: Thank you again for the wonderful reviews, favorites, and follows! Special shout out to **Kahara, Admiral Mitth'raw'nuruodo**, and** WingedJedi **for the reviews to my last chapter. I hope this one doesn't dissapoint. ;)

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

Tam was brooding again. I could feel it in my mind like a cold stone, a dead weight that served no other purpose than to take up space. He'd been doing that a lot in the past four days, his mind locked behind his wall more often than not. Whatever it was he was working on, he wasn't happy about it. And that was more so than the usual dislike of what he witnessed as a member of the ISB. I frowned a bit at that thought. Not even a full week in his post and he had already seen enough to establish a "usual" pattern of what he witnessed.

I didn't like that. And I liked it even less that outside of our training sessions with Reese, we'd had little to no contact with each other. Reese worked us hard during those sessions, his mind like a flexible steel dart that slipped between us when we weren't fully paying attention, scoring mental hits to match the physical ones we received. There was no time to talk to each other in those moments, no chance to touch for the sake of comfort. Reese wouldn't allow it until after the sessions were completed, and by that time we were all—including Reese, for he worked himself just as hard—too tired and too sore to do anything other than collapse in our respective bunks.

Stars, I hurt from head to toe, the pains radiating upward from my toes with each step I took. Every day some new muscle or part of my body joined the chorus of protests at simply rolling out of bed. Oddly enough I was getting used to it. Strange as it was to admit, but the day I got up and something did _not _burn or ache would be the day I ran to Vyns's new girlfriend, Dr. Ashta Flores, and demanded a full body scan.

The upside of this forced isolation was that we were each improving in our own individual levels. Physically I was "toughing up" as Vyns had put it over breakfast, he and Chib taking turns poking my bruises through my jumpsuit. The fact that I no longer batted away at their hands seemed to please the two of them. So much so that Vyns took it upon himself to attend our sessions when he could, squaring off against me so Reese could drill Tam one-on-one.

The downside was that this was a forced isolation, that we were learning apart from each other. We were developing skills that would take time to merge when we were together again. If we were ever allowed to be together again…

I thought all of this as I stepped onto the bridge, pushing away the hazy mental impression of Tam and Reese staring down at something on a holo-table. Something that had Tam ready to bite someone's head off and Reese near ready to agree with him. That made me blink, made me turn my mind's eye towards the twin walls in the center of my stars. Those walls were foggy, near transparent but not quite. Indicating the two were deep in some private conversation that I wasn't allowed to hear, but neither were quite willing to drop the link with me to give them total privacy.

They trusted me not to eavesdrop. Not that I would, I thought sourly as I strode towards my station. I barely had time to keep up with my own duties. Like the fact that I had to once again run the shift in my officer's stead while Ensign Colclazure spent the day instructing two new recruits. Since Olden wasn't fully trained to take Pieterson's place, that left me to run both tractor beam stations as well as manage the shift. And on top of that, the meeting requests with the Admiral had started to appear in my daily order log.

I glanced at the command section, hesitated only a moment before heading down to my duty station. Crewman Forde rose swiftly from our shared station, heels coming together in a sharp salute.

"Sir," he stated.

It was still an oddity to have him looking at me like I was his superior. When it wasn't six months ago that I had winked at him on my first day on the job, a silly girl that had tried to disguise her nervousness with flirtation. Now he stood tall and ready for my orders, and I had to fight a different form of nerves before they settled into my stomach.

"Crewman Forde," I began, my voice only trembling slightly. "I need you to remain on shift for a bit longer. Can you oversee these stations during that time?"

He blinked once, the only hint that I had surprised him. Save for the brief flash of eagerness in his eyes at the chance to command. I was hoping I had made the right decision. But who else really was there to run this section while I spoke with the Admiral? No one. Unless I decided to insult Forde by asking Lieutenant Tschel to stop pretending he wasn't watching our every move in Colclazure's absence and actually oversee our station.

No, I decided, making my first ever command decision on my own. Crewman Forde performed his service to the Empire with exceptional skill. I often wondered why Ensign Colclazure had chosen me to be his second instead him, and if he harbored ill will at being passed up in promotions by a conscript. If he did, it never showed in his work. And it made me reaffirm my decision to put him forward for any promotion that I could.

"Yes, sir," he said crisply. "Thank you, sir."

Without needing to be told, he sat back down at his station and keyed for a transfer of all the starboard tractor beams to his unit. Essentially tracking the activity in the crewpit without having to leave his station. Above me on the command walkway, I saw Lieutenant Tschel send a small smile my way and the briefest of nods before heading down the line. Apparently I had made the right decision.

Taking a deep breath, I approached the command section, presenting myself with a sharp salute of my own. "Sir."

"Crewman," the Admiral nodded, handing to me a data pad. "Your additional task for the day."

It displayed a single sentence.

_I would like to see the painting again._

That was it. No signature. No order number that could be logged and tracked in the system. But I knew what it meant. I knew what he wanted. That was reinforced by the fact that the ysalamiri was missing from the framework on his chair. I nodded and did as he commanded. And was fairly impressed with myself that for once I did not need to grasp his chair to do it. I was prepared for the vertigo, the oddly frightening sensation of my universe upending itself and slipping through my grasp, only to find the strange planets of my dream lurking beneath.

He was there, in my thoughts again, a faint pressure all over the expanse of my mind. Not exactly painful or unpleasant, but not normal. Obediently, and without having to be told, I walled myself away in a corner of the painting behind my asteroids. And I did it without much of an emotional slip. Only then did he rise to his feet and beckon me to follow.

"You show a marked improvement in your skills and discipline," he said as we walked the starboard side of the bridge. "The training sessions with Lieutenant Reese are proving as fruitful as I had hoped."

As careful as I tried to be, I couldn't stop the tiny fleeting bit of resentment from escaping my control. It floated like an iridescent chip of ice before melting away beneath the pressure of his thoughts. "Yes, sir," I said aloud.

He rewarded me with the faintest of smiles. "You disapprove."

What could I say to that? He already knew the answer, could see it in the fractional changes in the painting. "It is not my place to approve or disapprove, sir."

"There is method to what I am doing, Crewman. Trust in that at least."

I was slightly taken aback by that answer. "You do not owe me an explanation on anything, sir. I trust you completely."

He paused, glancing over at me. "Do you, now?"

There was a hook in there somewhere, a barb in that question. But for the life of me I couldn't see it. "Yes, sir."

"I disagree with your assessment of the situation, Crewman."

Again, I couldn't see the trap. "Ah… sir?"

He did not so much as turn to me physically as he did so in the painting. The stars were washed in red, and I felt his hands not simply touching the objects around him with curiosity but more with intent. He wanted to touch me, to lay a firm hand on that creative part of me. And he wasn't doing it slowly or gently. He wasn't doing it with malice aforethought either. He didn't want to hurt me, I knew that deep down. But he was proving a point.

The point that I didn't trust him completely, that inside the painting I was running as fast as my comet-like self could move, dodging his fingers and ricocheting off anything and everything to get away from that touch. It was too much, too personal and even with the prying eyes of the entire bridge crew for witness, I involuntarily took a step back from him.

His hand withdrew, the stars losing their red light.

Embarrassment faded the pure white light of those stars, flooding through me. On its heels was a crushing sense of disappointment. Not coming from him, but coming from myself. How in the Empire was I supposed to be his guard when I was afraid of him? How was he supposed to trust me to guard him when I ran from him? Stars, what kind of an idiot ran from their duties after professing nothing but a desire to fulfill them?

A coward, that was what. An insecure little coward that let her lack of true convictions toss her to the winds every time she was confronted with something new. Tam hated what he was forced to do, but he saw the need for it and did it anyway. Reese knew that ever mission he went on could be his last, yet he donned his armor every time and never looked back.

So much for my little moment of pride at "toughening up."

Admiral Thrawn stood staring out at the real stars, saying nothing. There was nothing he needed to say.

There was _everything_ I needed to say.

The stars shifted in the painting, and I fought not to close my eyes faintly under the weight of his thoughts. He'd heard the questions, and the string of thoughts and emotions that went along with them.

"Apologies, sir," I said softly, holding the data pad out to him. "Apparently there is so much more than I need to learn before I can serve in the post you wish for me."

He made no move to take back the offered data pad. Instead, he lifted an eyebrow, watching me through the reflection in the viewport. "I have not dismissed you, Crewman Idelas, nor have I the desire to do so at this time. How is it that you are to learn what I wish you to learn if you are removed from my presence?"

I swallowed once, the words confirming all my uncertainties from before. Yes, he had big plans for me. Yes, as part of his entourage. But if I was to get there, I was going to have to learn how to come to terms with his thoughts inside my head. "You are correct, sir."

"Then let us begin again."

He reached out a hand as if to take the data pad, his fingers brushing mine on purpose.

The result was immediate. The stars expanded, dilated, until they blended into one another and all that existed in the sky was vast pulsing red. I stomped down on the panic, on the feeling of being consumed whole. This had never happened before, not even when touching Tam and Reese at the same time while amplifying their power. Always it was my painting, and always I was in control of it. But this… I wasn't in control of anything.

_Very intriguing._ His eyebrows lifted completely at the way I jerked at that thought. A look of slight astonishment on his features._ You can hear me? _

And then I knew. All this time I had been drawing him into my painting, into my headspace. This time, somehow, some way, I was in _his_.

_Sir, I…. oh stars, sir, I didn't know this would happen. I'm sorry, please, I will withdraw—_

_No, you will not. You will tell me what you see and hear. Now._

_But if I am in your mind—_

His annoyance was instant, pounding down on my heart as clearly as if he had physically punched me in the chest. _You will obey, Crewman. What do you see and hear?_

_Red, sir. I see red. Like your eyes. Nothing but your eyes, like I stand in the center of them._

_What am I thinking, Crewman._

I swallowed past my own fear, my own wish to be like Rukh and not hear him at all even when I did hear him. _I can't hear your thoughts, at least not clearly. It's too… you are too… there are walls, sir. Hidden walls in the sea of red. I can't see the walls, but I know they are there and they… shift, sir. I can feel them shifting in ways that I don't understand. I'm not… we are not… Oh, stars, sir. I don't know how to say it. _

_Simply and calmly, if possible._

_We are not the same species, sir. I don't know how your mind works, or how your culture works. I don't know how you were taught to think. I can't follow it. I don't know how._

_Can you find the walls, Crewman?_

I wanted to jerk again, but part of me was aware that this was happening in plain sight of the entire bridge crew. I couldn't show a reaction again, not if this exchange was to go unnoticed. And that was probably part of the training he was giving me, that we were giving each other now that I thought about it. What must this be like for him? How did it feel from his perspective?

As if that one thought was like a partial map, I felt my fingers run across one of those invisible walls. And I felt his fingers tighten momentarily on mine where they touched across the data pad. The instinct to pull away, to spare him from the feelings I'd felt in that turbolift when he'd ran his fingers across my mental boundaries was stifled by the knowledge that he could end this contact just as easily as I.

He was in control this time. He could pull his fingers from mine at any moment. But he wasn't doing that. He wasn't thrusting me away from him. He was facing this challenge head-on. The same way Tam had faced his. The same way Reese always faced his…

And he had asked me a question, one that I needed to answer. I traced my fingers across that partition, felt the odd way it twisted. Like a Mobius loop wrapping upon itself infinitely. Walls that were foreign to my mental eyes, that met in angles and plains I couldn't begin to comprehend. His fingers alternated between flexing and relaxing against my own. And I knew this felt the same for him as it had for me in the turbolift.

_Yes, sir. I can find the walls._

_What am I thinking, Crewman._

_Curiosity, sir. _ I thought to him at last. _You are… curious about this connection. And you are thinking… is that a poem? I don't know the language, but the … the measures and pauses in the thought rhythm… it feels like a poem._

_It is. Very good, Crewman Idelas. Very good indeed. Tell me what I am thinking now._

This time the wall vanished at my touch, and I stepped through the red into… his command room of all places. He was sitting in the replica of the admiral's seat on the bridge. All around him a strange alien sculpture floated in the air. The same one over and over again. His eyes were closed as if in meditation, and beside him…

_I_ stood beside him, except I wore the full uniform of an officer. And around my wrist was a familiar silvery cuff, connected by its familiar silvery chain to a ring on his little finger.

_It's called a _shae'aln, he explained. _It is a practice among my people that fell out of favor centuries ago. Its meaning is somewhat different to my people than such a display would be to yours. It is indeed a mark of ownership, of domination of one over the other. However, it is not slavery. More a… position of honor, we shall call it. The placement of_ _the ring denotes drastically different levels in the relationship between the_ shae, _the leader, and the_ aln, _the follower. In this instance, wearing the_ shae _upon one's little finger denotes absolute trust in the one being guided._

It shouldn't have been such a surprise to know that he trusted me, at least in some part. He had allowed me to paint him, after all. But it was. It was completely shocking and utterly overwhelming at the same time. I was… no, I couldn't think of myself as a conscript anymore. No one else saw me as that save for myself. Captain Pellaeon made that clear over dinner. But wasn't I…

_You are over thinking things, Ensign Idelas. That is a defect we will correct in time._

That time I did jerk slightly. And it was enough to break that fragile contact between his fingers and mine. The connection vanished, taking all the images with it. "Sir?"

He took the pad from my fingers, quickly imputed some information into it, and handed it back. "Your new orders, Ensign Idelas. Congratulations. Return to your post."

"Y-yes, sir. Th-thank you, sir," And I paused as something else clicked in my mind. I turned back to him, stepping close enough to barely whisper. "The first time you thought in my direction, thought about that poem. It was in your native language. The second time you thought at me, when we shared that image, it was in basic, wasn't it?"

I was rewarded again with that small smile. "Very good, Ensign Idelas. We have established the first of many boundaries. Attend to your duties now."


	25. Chapter 25 - Confessions

A/N: Thanks again for all the support and messages and reviews. :) As always, my disclaimer applies.

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_He knows!_

The thought went out across the bond before I fully entered Tam's office. And if I had been in my right mind, I would have taken the time to assess both Tam and Reese's mental states and what they were doing before I opened my big telepathic mouth. Alarm streaked across Tam's space, a spiky electric arc of lightning that flashed across the stars in my head. Mild concern echoed from Reese like the fading afterimage of a bright flare, and a serious warning from the latter to pull myself together immediately.

Because they weren't alone.

I couldn't quite get over the shock that went through me when I first stepped into the room. For one thing, it was four times and a half the size of Ensign Colclazure's. For another, it was divided into five distinct sections by waist-high walls. Work stations were in the process of being erected by technicians, the areas around them a complicated knot of wires and parts and pieces. The technicians themselves seemed unhindered by the organized chaos, somehow possessed of the ability to pluck a random wire from a tangled ball and have it unravel seamlessly into their hands. The presence of the technicians wasn't all that shocking, given the Admiral's orders to acquire a team for Tam's use.

What was shocking was the signs of utter fear that manifested in the group of techs. They were all focused on their work with the single-minded dedication of someone wanting to complete a task and get the kriff away as soon as possible. One man had sweat running down his face, though the ambient temperature wasn't nearly that warm. Another man's hand shook slightly, so much so that he dropped one of the mounting brackets—four times—before he was able to install a panel in its proper place. It was the woman that kept throwing wide-eyed looks over her shoulder that did it.

She was staring in the direction of Tam's area. Or more to the point staring at the man, himself. As if she was expecting him to grow fangs, claws, and attempt to rip her face off. I couldn't help but goggle at her, standing there like an idiot a few steps away from the door. Surely she wasn't thinking such awful things about Tam, was she?

My gaze shifted to my best friend and my lover, and for a moment I understood the fear that saturated the room. Tam did not look happy, and Reese less than such. There was a frown on Tam's lips, and he bent over the central holotable, hands gripping the edges tightly. There was tension in his frame, and his eyes were thoughtful as they viewed whatever information drifted across the glassy surface. Every so often his hand would lift, a fingertip touching the table and moving bits of information around. Like trying to fit together a giant jigsaw puzzle.

Reese was likewise bent over the table, grunting or murmuring approval or dislike as they worked through whatever it was they were doing.

That was what I saw. What the other occupants of the room saw? They saw the white tunic and black pants of the ISB uniform first. Then they saw the all black uniform and shining rank bars of a stormtrooper Lieutenant. Then they saw the tension in them and the frown on their lips. And then… then they saw what I considered a thoughtful expression in Tam's kind eyes.

They saw calculation instead in Tam. And cold dispassionate killer eyes in Reese.

Perspective. How I wish that had been the first lesson taught to us the moment we were conscripted. Everything outside of basic training was nothing more than an exercise in perspective. The technicians saw a monster and death when they gazed at Tam and Reese. I saw men trapped in a nightmare, doing their best to save everyone around them from it and trying to figure out how to survive it, themselves.

Giving myself a shake, I stepped over to them, presenting myself as was proper to an officer of higher rank. "Crewman Idelas, reporting, sir."

_Stars, Ari, not you, too_, Tam sighed inwardly. His outward appearance had not changed. He was getting better at this, at hiding what he was really feeling, and I wasn't certain if that was necessarily a good thing. _Don't ever call me 'sir' again._

_I don't have much of a choice, Tam. Not with witnesses present. Now, are you going to acknowledge me or are you going to let these technicians continue to think you're about to eat my face?_

He started at that, head whipping up in my direction. His eyes widened, and all that control I had noticed in him a moment ago slipped away. Inwardly, I cursed. _Cal, stop it. Be the ISB officer right this instant. Or do you want rumors going around about us among the crew? _

I felt the turmoil in him, the whirlwind of nausea that now he was forced to play this political game, to alter the perspective of those around him because of his new rank. But he comported himself appropriately, rising to his full height. "Crewman Idelas," he acknowledged, nodding once.

"Crewman," Reese nodded in turn. "Thank you for reporting as ordered. You have that information for us?"

"Yes, sir."

I fished out the data card Admiral Thrawn had handed to me, not even blinking as I handed over the fake report. I had nothing to give them and they knew it, but they were covering for my stupidity, my blundering into ISB domain as if I had the right to be there.

Reese took the offered card, tucking it with practiced ease into a belt box. "I am certain this will be helpful."

"Crewman," Tam cut in, noting the obvious dismissal in Reese's tone. And ignoring it. "Have you completed your duties for the night?"

"Yes, sir. I am relieved of duty at the moment. Aside from reporting—"

"Those can wait," Tam interjected. "Admiral Thrawn implied that you could assist me when you had time. I see that you have that time."

He stepped back from the holo table, keying something I couldn't see until the table went dark. Reese's disapproval rolled like dark clouds across the bond, a warning glint in his eyes. This wasn't a good idea. It really wasn't. But Reese's personal need followed that warning, and even he had to admit that it had been too long since the three of us stood connected within touching distance.

Without trying to kill each other in weapons practice, that is.

Tam withdrew his own data card from the table. "Walk with me."

I followed them into a private room… into what I realized was Tam's official office. The moment the door closed behind us and locked, I threw myself at Reese. He caught me around the waist and pulled me in tightly, his lips hitting mine like a force of nature. For once I didn't try to mute the link with Tam while I kissed Reese. I needed him to feel what I was feeling, needed him to have the comfort and safety and utter relief that washed across me.

We were together again. All three of us. Even if it was only for a stolen few minutes of time, we were together. That was all that mattered.

"You are trembling, little one," Reese said when the kiss broke, eyes narrowing. "What has happened?"

"I got promoted."

He lifted an eyebrow. "And this is a reason for fear?"

"Let her speak, Reese," Tam cut in, enfolding me in a tight embrace after Reese let go.

When Reese put his hand on the back of my neck, when I opened myself fully to the two of them for what felt like the first time in months, the bond flared like a supernova. Scorching the dark worry and fatigue from our bodies. I sagged in Tam's arms, felt him laughing softly just as I heard Reese chuckle at my reaction. He felt it too, to be certain, yet he was too disciplined even in his off time to let such a reaction show. Instead, he pulled out a chair from in front of Tam's desk and offered it to me.

Tam took a seat behind his desk, his shoulders straight and square. Less severe and more relaxed, but… taller somehow. It made me smile.

_Tell us, little one,_ Reese whispered through the bond. _What about this promotion is so frightening to you? What does the Admiral know?_

I hesitated a moment, trying to pull myself out of the comforting warmth of our reestablished bond enough to put words together. Feeling like I was taking my first deep breaths in forever. We were going to have to find a way to do this more often, to maneuver ourselves until we could meet like this at least once a week. Having gone without it was like going without my left arm. Somehow, I was going to have to impress this upon the Admiral.

I pushed away the nagging doubt that the reason the Admiral had separated us in the first place was _because_ this bond was so necessary, that perhaps he saw it as a weakness. That perhaps he was right.

_He knows about my dream,_ I sent, rubbing at the bridge of my nose. _The first time he asked to see my painting, I think I panicked. His mind isn't like ours, isn't like anything I can put into relatable terms. So when I tried to paint him, it was like an abstract that had its own life. Like it was breaking the painting somehow, like it was too large to contain. So I did the only thing I could do and related him the best way I knew how._

_By framing him in the context of your vision_, Reese finished for me.

_Yes. It was only for a second, only to get a better grasp on how to shape him in my thoughts. But it was enough. He… he confirmed something for me today. He told me what the bracelet and the ring meant. They are Chiss customs long gone out of favor by his people. They show a kind of… dominance, but not like we would quantify it. More like leader and being lead, or willing submission to someone else in order to gain something greater. I hesitate to call it a teacher/student relationship as even that is an incorrect analogy. _

I waved my hand in the air helplessly. _Regardless, it confirmed what you initially thought, Tam. These aren't random dreams I'm having. They are visions of some kind. And he's aware that I'm having them and that they hold meaning for him. _

_Does that have something to do with your promotion?_ Tam asked.

And in that moment I felt them do something that they shouldn't have done, or rather shouldn't have been able to do without me. I felt a partial wall arise in my head, one that blocked me out of the link for a second without dropping the bond and allowed Tam and Reese to have a private conversation. Throwing up a wall wasn't anything new, but blocking one of us from the link completely? I didn't think it was possible. I felt my mouth fall open, staring at them aghast.

_What did you just do? And why?_

Tam looked at Reese, and Reese shrugged. _We have learned a new trick together, little one. For our own protection and for yours. You have touched the mind of Admiral Thrawn, and he will be expecting you to keep his confidences. Tam and I felt that the first time you brought him into your painting. We had to find a way to communicate without trespassing through that trust. Make no mistake, little one. He trusts you. Do _not_ misuse it for any reason._

_I'm not an idiot,_ I snapped back slightly. Not sure why I was feeling hurt or angry that they had done this thing without me. _I'm far too paranoid and petrified to so much as ever think about betraying him._

What they were doing made logical sense in a way, but still… It felt like more than a division to protect the Admiral's privacy. It felt like a permanent thing, like something too easy to use and something that could become a reflex before any of us knew it. How long before Tam and I started talking without including Reese? How long until Reese and I did the same? The blunt and simple honesty that had been the nucleus of our bond felt violated somehow, less sacred than before.

Tam and Reese fell silent, picking up those thoughts from me. Silently agreeing on all points, and yet feeling as helpless as I did in regards to being able to stop it.

_We just have to try harder,_ Tam said softly. _We'll find ways to maintain our honesty._

_No,_ Reese shook his head. _No, I think it's time the two of you took off your blinders and accepted your fate. You are no longer conscripts by your own admission, but stand as full warriors in service to the Empire. Warriors must understand that not every unit remains together one hundred percent of the time. Each of us has been selected for our skills and talents, and will be offered positions because of those diverse abilities. More often than not, we will run into situations where we cannot tell each other everything. _

_That's not what she means_, Tam interjected protectively. _She means daily conversations, moments like this where—_

Reese ignored him, gazing down at me. _It isn't? Then tell me—in your own words—why the hurt and anger swirl around you when Tam and I discuss mission specific items without you_?

I rubbed my hands over my face, wanting so much to tell him that Tam was right, that being left out of mission specs didn't bother me. But I couldn't, and they both knew that. It bothered me something fierce that we were literally being separated. Even knowing the logic behind it, I still couldn't bring myself to accept it. Tam and I had been a team for so much of my tiny career that the thought of being without him…

"I can't," I said aloud, needing to hear my own voice. Needing to hear the words affirmed aloud. "It's too soon after losing Pieterson. You don't understand how much the two of you keep me sane. No conscript—and no brand new warrior—would be subjected to what we are being asked to do. I can't lose our link yet."

"I once thought as you do now," Reese shrugged his shoulders, mild disbelief at my professed weakness pouring through the bond. "Remind me to tell you the story of Commander Jhan Miles, little one."

"Who was that?" Tam asked.

"The man who changed my entire way of thinking."

* * *

I was nearly weeping as I made my painful way back to the crewman barracks, head ringing and limbs all but numb from our nightly penance. Dabu Chib had come to join in on the "fun" as he had called it, stating that Vyns had a date with the lovely Dr. Flores in some hidden part of the secondary medical facility and thusly could not assist Reese this evening. So far it appeared as if Vyns was winning the bet, charming the before mentioned ice-hearted woman into his bed. But Chib had a different view on the topic, believing that maybe, just maybe, Vyns had really found a woman worth keeping.

Just as Reese had.

He'd knocked me flat with a blow to the side of the face, and with that one statement. Hard enough that I lost consciousness for a good minute or two. I woke to fire in my side, the pressure of Chib's practice staff slapping away at my ribs during my blackout. Apparently being unconscious was no excuse for letting one's guard down. Nor was being caught flatfooted when someone said something intensely personal and shocking all at once.

No matter how long Reese and I were together, I don't think I'd ever truly believe that he wanted to "keep" me. It was too much akin to the word "love," and I wasn't certain I was ready to go that route yet. Granted, he and I were completely exclusive, and he'd made me jump through more hoops—physically and verbally—than any boyfriend I'd ever had in the past just to know what it was like to be intimate with him. But that didn't mean—

I'd put that line of thought on hold as I twisted onto my side as if to rise, shoving one foot out in a sweeping motion, taking Chib down onto the mat before pushing to my feet. I was on my guard before he'd finished his own kick-up, slashing at his exposed shoulders for a good blow or two before he regained his momentum. I didn't hold the upper hand for much longer, but it was a lot longer than I had in the past, and by the end of that round Chib was breathing as hard as I was.

He'd grinned ear to ear, nodding to me for the first time ever. As in, treating me like I had done something worthy of respect. And out of the corner of my eye, I saw that as yet unnamed Noghri nod slightly before turning and walking out the door. I had no idea what his nod meant, nor what he would report back to the Grand Admiral. For surely that was why he was here? Watching and recording and reporting on our progress?

I didn't want to think of that as anything else. The implications of "anything else" were enough to make me want to run in terror. And I was far beyond running in terror anymore. There were worse things in this galaxy than some unknown fear. I had learned that much at least.

And that thought was probably what had me pausing at the side of my bunk. Or rather, that thought combined with the soft sighs of barely muffled sobs. There, in the bunk that had once belonged to Cris Pieterson, lay a new form. A girl, if the height and shape beneath the blankets was any indication. I glanced at the locker that stood next to mine.

"Crewman E. Gilliam," I read aloud softly.

The bundle on the bunk froze, and even without the Force I could sense the fear that wrapped around her like steel cable. I could almost hear the thoughts twisting through her terrified mind. Why? Because I had them my first night in the _Chimaera's_ barracks. The first time I'd heard Pieterson come from his shift, I had held my breath until I almost passed out, praying that he'd ignore me, that I wouldn't be noticed. That if I closed my eyes tight enough, whished and prayed hard enough, when I opened them again I would be home in my bed. My real bed, with my real family. And all this conscription nonsense would have been a bad dream.

Inwardly I sighed, surprised at the slight annoyance that ripped through me at her muffled sobs. I had had one hell of a long day, earned a promotion, and endured my evening penance for the mistakes I'd made before. The last thing I wanted was to listen to someone trying to pretend their way out of reality. The very last thing I wanted to see on my shift on the morrow was the red swollen eyes of a child that would be more a hindrance to the performance of my station that the help she was supposed to be.

Stars, I owed Ensign Colclazure one hell of an apology. How he had put up with me in the beginning was anyone's guess. The man deserved a medal for his patience. Then again, so did my Admiral for putting up with my cowardly actions, and so did Reese for putting up with my physical weaknesses. And so did Captain Pellaeon for not breaking my neck every time I stood on the center of his bridge like a idiot. And so on… and so forth…

"Stars," I cursed beneath my breath. "This is what true command feels like, doesn't it? This is what it means to lead."

I paused, slipping my foot back into the boot I'd almost tugged free.

"Crewman Gilliam," I said firmly, quietly. "To attention."

The form under the blanket trembled, and I started a slow count to ten beneath my breath. Ten seconds was all I could allow her to pull herself together. Ten seconds, as Chib had so generously pointed out in our training session today, was the difference between life and death. That would be my new marker, my new measure of when I needed to apply discipline along with leadership.

Terrified or not, the girl was smart enough to realize I meant business. By the time I reached the ten second mark, she was standing at something I assumed she thought was proper attention. Her eyes were the obligatory red from weeping, and her fingers twitched at her side as if unsure of what to do with her hands. I stared into those eyes, taking her measure in a heartbeat.

She was only a breath younger than me if she was a day. But that vast gulf called experience separated the woman I was now from the girl she was. From the girl I had been when in her exact situation. Only I had been smart enough to ask for help.

"Crewman Gilliam," I said again, standing at proper attention, watching her eyes widen as if I had grown twelve feet in height just by squaring my shoulders. "I am Ensign Aria Idelas, one of your commanding officers on the starboard crewpit team. When I call you to attention, I expect you to comply as quickly as you can. Neither laziness nor excuses will be tolerated."

"Y-y-yes, sir."

"You are a conscript, I presume."

"Y-yes, sir."

She dared to wince, to take her eyes from me for even a second. My mouth tightened, and that was enough to have her trying to stand straighter, eyes locked onto mine. No matter how much I wanted to wrap my arms around her, to tell her that it was going to be okay, that she would learn and adapt like the rest of us had, I just couldn't. Because no one else was going to do that for her. No one else was going to be kind or compassionate.

If she made a mistake, they would discipline her for it. And in the end, she would fit the mold, or she would shatter and be remade, or she would die. The only question that remained was how many good men would lose their lives with her if she died. For we all had our parts to play on this ship, we all had our positions that were tied directly to the success of each mission.

There was no time for hugs or soft words in the middle of a battle. The_ Chimaera_ was a warship aimed like a sword in the Grand Admiral's hand.

I couldn't be soft, no matter how much my heart broke for her.

_Pieterson, I am one of them. Heart and soul. I understand now. I fully understand. I have to be firm if everyone is going to survive. I can't just think of myself when thirty-seven thousand other lives depend on me to do my job. You were wrong, my friend. And I'm so sorry I couldn't help you see it. But I don't have to let this girl share your fate._

"Do you have a speech impediment, Crewman Gilliam?" I continued sternly.

She flinched. "N-no, sir."

"Then I expect you to take a deep breath and answer me clearly. What is your name, Crewman?"

She took the deep breath, seeming to empty herself from the toes upward with it. "Elindria Gilliam, sir."

I let myself smile faintly. "You'll get used to it, Crewman Gilliam, all the changes being thrown at you," I said quietly. "It'll always hurt, being away from those you love. And it'll seem impossible to do what you have been called upon to do. But you have officers around you that can and will assist you if you do your best. Never hesitate to ask for that help. In the end, you'll get used to it, and you will be better for it."

Disbelief and rage and sorrow and everything in between lanced through her dark eyes. I let that stare break over me like water, like I was a rock in the center of her emotional torrent. When she had had enough, when she realized that all her bottled rage and helplessness wasn't going to so much as chip at my placid exterior, her shoulders slumped. Her eyes filled with those tears again.

And, stars help me, I said what I needed to say. For her sake and for my own.

"Did I, at any point in this conversation, give you permission to stand at your ease?"

Her shoulders lifted, and I did my best not to wince at her poor imitation of a proper stance. I had my work cut out for me, apparently. I glanced at my wrist chronometer and pursed my lips. "We are too late to drill you on proper the proper way to stand at attention, Crewman. You need your rest. I want you to come and find me at the end of your shift on the morrow. I'll instruct you on the correct way to speak, to address your superiors, and how to stand. I don't suppose you can perform military turns, can you?"

"I have had basic instructions on it, sir."

I shook my head. "We'll work on that, too. Dismissed."

She clambered into her bunk so fast I almost thought she broke the sound barrier. But instead of turning away from me, she lay on her side, facing me. The tears were back in her eyes, the trembling returning to her frame. But she wasn't weeping again just yet. I felt her watching me take off my boots, strip from my crewman's jumpsuit for the last time. Tomorrow, I would report to the commissary to pick up my full officer's uniform. Tomorrow night, I would sleep in my own room on the junior officer's deck.

"S-sir?"

I glanced over. "Yes, crewman?"

"Why, sir?"

"Why what, Crewman?" I asked, slipping beneath the blankets.

"Why are you helping me?"

_Because I couldn't help the man that used to sleep in your bunk. He was a right awful bastard at times, but in the end he was my friend. And I miss him, terribly._ "Because it's my job, Crewman Gilliam. I expect you to pay back these lessons by performing above and beyond expectations. This is the _Chimaera_. This is the best of the best. We do not have standards on this ship. We _set_ the standards for all other ships. Now get some rest."

"Yes, sir."

She rolled over onto her other side, and I did the same. And I knew that tonight I would dream of the home I once loved. The home that would never be mine again, because I was no longer the girl I used to be.


	26. Chapter 26 - Preparations

A/N: Thanks again for the wonderful reviews, favorites and follows. This story has taken on a life of its own, and I hope everyone enjoys it. Special thanks to **wfolk, Admiral Mitth'raw'nuruodo, chisscientist, zedille **and **Hoplite39** for all the wonderful reviews. That made my day in ways I can't even describe. :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

Both Tam and Reese were waiting for me at the commissary in the morning, the bond snapping into place with a practiced ease that was pure reflex. Pride fairly danced across Reese's thoughts, along with a darker more personal emotion that had nothing to do with my promotion and everything to do with the fact that I would have my own room—on the officers deck of the ship. We would no longer have to work as hard to slip in and out of each other's quarters, nor would I have to run off quite as early to keep up the appearance that I was not, in fact, sleeping with a fellow member of the crew.

Tam was suspiciously silent when those thoughts ghosted across our link, and I fought down a smile. He was being quiet as he had experienced the exact same thought on realizing just where his new quarters were located—a mere few doors down from one Ensign Megga Tarn. The radical differences in their shift assignments made it extremely difficult for them to connect, but when they did… Well, let's just say Reese and I found excuses to focus hard on something for a while.

To put it bluntly, my best friend had a 'passion' in him that defied his normally calm exterior. So much so that Reese had given him no end of grief for it for days after his first night with Tarn. Come to think of it, I believe he was still in the process of coming up with new ways to needle Tam. And jumping to my best friend's defense would not help the situation. I'd spent entirely too much time around Reese and his Merry Men to want to be caught in that sort of crossfire.

Yet, I was noting, for all of Tam's growled protests that Reese should keep his nose out of his love life, Tam did carry a bit of a grin on his lips.

Hard to believe that six and a half months ago, we were just like Crewman Gilliam. Now? Now I willing sat in the chair I had dreaded upon arriving on the _Chimaera. _Back then I had paid the commissary officer handsomely to avoid having my hair cut. Now I let the droid do its job while I waited for my uniforms to be issued. The computer already had my updated scans, and my new clothes would be ready after my barbering was handled.

It was the boots that gave me pause. The hard-heeled, knee high black leather boots of a real officer, not the soft synthleater calf-high ones I wore as a crewman. These were the real deal, molded and shaped to my height and weight and shoe size, the sole crafted of a foam-fabric that was supposedly designed to let me stand all day long without feeling the pain.

Save for the Captain and the Admiral, officers did not have assigned seats on the bridge, and junior officers less so. We shared a bank of computers off to the other side of the command station if reports needed to be completed immediately. Otherwise, we had our tiny little offices one deck below the main quarters. When we were on duty on the bridge, we were expected to be overseeing our posts, not lolling about and sipping tea as the Army seemed to think we did.

It was the boots that drove this home for me, that made my promotion seem so real. Soon the sound of my footsteps would ring when I descended into the crewpit, causing the lesser experienced crewers to jump. Causing their eyes to rise with fear if I happened to pass over the command walkway. If the sight of me in my crewman's jumpsuit had caused Crewman Olden to nearly faint, what would this do to the poor man?

Reese's chuckle floated through my mind, mingling with Tam's slight annoyance at his amusement. _Don't start_, I sent to them both. _This is difficult enough._

_This young Olden will find his place in the Fleet soon enough, little one. Enjoy the honor he gives you. You have earned it._

_But not at the cost of fear_, Tam interjected swiftly. _We did not enlist for this, Reese. We won't become the ones that hurt and terrified us, nor will we take pleasure in inspiring fear. Those under our command will be respected and treated fairly._

Oh joy, just what I needed. They were going to start anyway.

Reese's chuckle turned into a full guffaw, his outward appearance as impassive as always. _Perhaps you have that luxury, Calim. You get to hand-pick your team from the resumes supplied by the Admiral. Little one has to accept what she is given, and make the most out of those under her. From conscript to enlistee, it is up to her to make them into proper warriors._

Tam shifted his shoulders under the white fabric of his tunic, as if suddenly uncomfortable with the weight. _I didn't mean—_

_You did_, Reese cut in firmly, though there was nothing but ripe amusement in his thoughts. _You meant every word of it. And it will upset you each and every time little one is as harsh with her subordinates as your officers were to you in the beginning. But as she pointed out last evening to her first new team mate, this is a warship. This is the _Chimaera_. And we are at war. There is no time to be soft, just as there is no time to be cruel, either. There is only time to teach by any means necessary._

Tam frowned slightly, covering that up by continuing to pretend to scan the computer registry, looking for miscellaneous items. He was deeply disturbed by what Reese had said, his mind turning inward towards the logic problem that argument presented rather that outward towards anger or fear. As mine would have. Tam was a good officer with a calm and sharp mind. I had little doubt that anyone serving under him would find him lacking.

Suddenly the uniforms in my arms felt heavier than a mountain.

I so wasn't ready for this! What if I had made a mistake in addressing Gilliam last night? Should I have spoken to Ensign Colclazure first? She was truly his responsibility, and if he had other plans for her…

_Stop!_ both Tam and Reese said at once, the word bouncing around my head as if they had both verbally snapped at me sharply.

For the first time that morning, the two stared at one another, all pretense of randomly showing up in the commissary at the same time to browse for items gone. I glad for the bond in that moment. Having this conversation aloud, where we would have had to guess at nuances and turns of phrase rather than feeling the intent behind each word, would have been a nightmare.

Without the bond, there was no way Tam and Reese could have stood the sight of one another, nevertheless maintained a friendship. They were just too different on too many fundamental levels. Except when they came together on a single point, and apparently that point was my lack of faith in myself. On that level, they were in solid agreement that I was harder on myself that I needed to be.

Well, not every one of us was blessed with unfailing courage like Reese and unflappable calm like Tam. Some of us were just normal people with fears and worries and insecurities larger than this ship was wide!

I shoved past them, heading towards my new quarters. Nearly telling the both of them not to follow. Reese would have ignored it anyway, and Tam would not have let Reese barge in on me without being there to back me up. Slamming them both out of my head would have been equally as useless, even though my mind was already crowded with this sudden case of fluttering doubt.

Like always, Reese followed almost immediately. Tam was forced to hang back for a minute or two, continuing to give the illusion that we were estranged from one another, especially since he was ISB now. And Reese used that to his full advantage. The moment the doors to my tiny new quarters closed, he tripped the lock and silenced the alert chime. My arms were relieved of the burden they bore, and Reese had me pressed to the mattress before I registered it.

_Do not fear, little one._ He thought, continuing the conversation even though his mouth was currently doing… other things. _You are ready for this. You have been ready for it the moment you took your stand against C'Baoth. Lead. Teach. Discipline. These are what an officer need know._

If there was anything else an officer need know, it was lost when he did things to me that had nothing to do with pain or fear or insecurities.

* * *

With a hand that was steady and sure, Tam folded the front of the crisp olive drab uniform fabric across my heart, connecting the magnetic clasps on the left side as was proper. And still, it didn't feel real to me. Even when he smoothed the perfectly tailored tunic across my shoulders, helping me prepare for my first day. A labor of love on his part, driven by the closeness that had nothing to do with the Force bond we shared and everything to with the friendship we cherished.

Rumor had it that everyone had a ceremony of some sort to celebrate promotions. The rite that Reese's team underwent had to do with pain and endurance. Each new member, or each team mate that earned a promotion, got to run the obstacle training course while the rest of the team watched. The kicker being that he or she had to do it while carrying the ENTIRE squad's helmets in a specially rigged pack on their backs. It was supposed to symbolize the weight of carrying the honor of the whole unit as the person in question started their new rank or assignment.

Tam and I? Ours was about remembering who we were beneath the uniform and the rank. And remembering our vows not to be another cog in the Imperial War Machine, but to be a person at all times. To remember that those that served with us were just as scared and just as much of a person as we were.

Not as glorious as Reese's display, certainly. But it served its purpose.

I saw him in the reflection of the mirror in my miniscule private 'fresher station, saw his eyes fill with that mingled pride and dread as I clipped my first rank bar to the front of my tunic. He handed me my belt next, followed by the code cylinders. One in each pocket specifically designed for them on the tunic. I held my hat in my hands, fighting not to mangle it into an unrecognizable shape. There was nothing to be nervous about, I told myself over and over again.

My reflection didn't agree with me. The face in the mirror was as white as armor, the eyes too wide.

"Stars, Cal, I don't think I can do this."

His arms wrapped around me from behind, our height differences such that I could see his face clearly over my shoulder. "You are still Aria Idelas," he said firmly, echoing what I had said to him a week before. "At the center of it all, you are still my best friend. Don't get lost in the pomp and the fear that this uniform generates. You are still you, with all the hopes and dreams and fears that you had yesterday."

I tried to laugh, the sound coming out too high and too strained. "Is it unbecoming of my rank to admit that I have a hard time believing that?"

He smiled, hugging me tighter. "No, but it may get you looked at funny if you display that fear on the bridge. Don't let the animals see you sweat. They can taste it in the air, you know."

Tam winked and I huffed out a real laugh, a tiny and almost strangled laugh but a real one nonetheless. Partly because what he said had been funny, and partly because it was also true. One did not show fear on the bridge of a ship like the _Chimaera_. It was far better to die than to have to face the repercussions of that. Death lasted a second, but the ridicule could last a lifetime.

I turned, hugging him fiercely, letting him hug me back just as fiercely. We clung to each other for a long moment like that, uncertain of what was scaring us both to our cores. But there wasn't time for us to figure it out. He was already late returning to his shift, having taken his lunch break to complete our ceremony of renewal and remembrance. I hated our shifts, the off hours done on purpose to keep us apart. But like this promotion, there was nothing we could do about it.

Nothing but serve and hope and pray.

I stepped back, accepting the gloves he gave me and tugging them on. My cap followed next, and with a heavy, deep breath, I followed him out the door.

* * *

I kept my eyes forward as I walked onto the bridge, fighting their urge to dart this way and that, to see who reacted to my change from jumpsuit to uniform. It felt like every eye was on me, like the entire bridge had paused to take one giant collected stare in my direction. Which wasn't the case, of course, but that didn't stop me from feeling like it was. In reality maybe two or so heads turned my direction from people I didn't know.

Those that I did? Well, Lieutenant Tschel let his eyes take me in from polished boots to placement of my cap. Not apprising in a sexual way, but searching for a hidden flaw or misplaced seam or piece of lint. He was the bridge officer, after all, and it was his duty to do so. But the wide smile he hid behind his hand, placed just so to look as if he was considering something, said it all.

Proud. He was proud to see me in proper uniform. And the blush that touched my cheeks made him grin all the more.

I ducked my head, heading down into the crewpit. As expected, Crewman Olden—and most specifically crewman Gilliam—sat up straighter in their seats, going pale around the collar. Seated, I tried really hard not to notice, where Pieterson and I once sat. Crewman Forde rose to full attention from where he had been leaning down, instructing Gilliam on some bit of procedure. He looked tired but confident, most likely having to run shifts when I was with the Admiral and when Colclazure was training Olden and Gilliam.

I took a deep mental breath. Here goes…

"I wanted to thank you for your hard work, Crewman Forde," I began, standing at attention, myself. "This must have been very trying on you."

"I was glad to be of service, sir," he replied.

"It has been noted and won't be forgotten. Thank you again. You are dismissed for the day."

"Thank you, sir."

With a perfect military turn, he headed for the stairway. I didn't miss the look of utter fright that filled Gilliam's eyes, the way they all but screamed silently for Forde to come back, to not leave her alone with the frightening Ensign Idelas and her terrifying commanding officer. I flicked a glance at Ensign Colcalzure—

—and felt both my eyebrows rise, eyes locking onto the added Lieutenant rank to his bar.

He at least didn't hide the grin that broke out across his face. Though he did turn towards the bank of computers behind him. It wouldn't do to be seen as too cheerful, too boastful of a promotion, after all.

"I see congratulations are in order, sir," I murmured, moving over to join him.

"The same returned," he said. "How does it feel to wear a real uniform?"

"The collar is irritatingly itchy and the gloves make me feel like I'm suffocating, but I am enjoying the boots."

He coughed politely into one gloved fist, hiding the chuckle that almost slipped through. "I told you once that I would make an officer out of you, Idelas. I see you have already adopted an officer's dry sense of humor."

_And a very unofficerlike fear of failure!_ "Does your promotion mean that you will be leaving us, sir?"

"No," he responded, turning with me to face our team. "However, I now have an opening in my ranks that needs to be filled."

"Midshipman," I replied with a nod.

"And that of adjutant."

It took everything in me not to blink, to keep my face carefully neutral. "Sir?"

"You are the one leaving us, I'm afraid. Transfer orders came in this morning. You are to report to Grand Admiral Thrawn as soon as I have these two fully trained," he nodded towards Olden and Gilliam. "It appears he has taken a liking to your reporting style and requested you as his own adjutant. Though I do believe he has a mind to share you with Captain Pellaeon."

I tried not to swallow hard. It was a damn near thing.

"You don't seem pleased with the assignment," Colclazure continued, frowning slightly. "I thought I had instilled in you a drive to serve with distinction. Was I wrong to put you forward for promotion?"

That frown had as much power over me now as it did the first day I met him. I was standing at full attention before I realized it. No matter rank we now wore, he was still my officer. Would always be such in my eyes.

"No, sir," I replied quickly, earning a slight smirk from him. "I do want the promotion. Thank you for putting me forward, sir. It is… overwhelming, sir. I admit that I had hoped, or thought I should say, to remain with you for a little longer."

"I have taught you all I can in this post, Ensign. You'll have many officers during your career that will teach you things you never knew you lacked. I suggest you learn what you can from the Admiral, just as you learned what you could from me. And continue the trend all your life."

That time I did swallow hard, my eyes following the movements of Gilliam and Olden, trying not to feel like I was saying goodbye to someone that was like a mentor to me. If he had said no to me all those months ago when I asked him for help, if he hadn't had gone head to head with C'Baoth for me, I wouldn't be where I was right now. I would be dead, or worse, a mental puppet in the mad Jedi Master's schemes.

And I was never so thankful to have a raw trainee under my supervision in that moment. I stepped forward, catching Gilliam's mistake before she made it. She paled to her toes, staring up at me like I was death incarnate. But she listened at least when I corrected her, and when I stepped back to Colclazure's side, she and I both had control of our emotions. Or better control, I should say.

"Crewman Forde," I said, folding my hands behind me, trying to change the subject. "He deserves the promotion, sir. He already has a rapport with Olden and Gilliam. And he catches onto things rapidly. He will make an excellent adjutant."

"I agree. How long until you can bring him up to speed on your duties?"

"If he's given a full day of free time to rest and recuperate, not long at all, sir."

"Then see to it. I'm afraid we are going to have to push him hard, Idelas. I want him ready to run the third shift as soon as possible. You'll take the second for the time being, and I'll run the first."

"Third, sir? Our station has ever only had two shifts, in two twelve hour blocks."

Colclazure smiled, a razor edge to it. "The Admiral has something planned for the _Chimaera_, Ensign. He wants all sections to return to true military standards. The crewman will continue the twelve hour shifts. The officers will rotate back to the eight hours standard on deck, with two hours for reporting and an additional two for training when necessary afterwards. We are no longer operating on the defensive. We are about to take the war to the rebels in our first major offensive strike in some time."

* * *

It was hard to believe that I was more exhausted at the end of the day than I had been in months. That included the weeks since Reese has been ordered to beat us to near unconsciousness night after night. Most of this fatigue I could attribute to stress. But the rest? I shook my head wearily. That was from good old fashioned work. And frustration.

Oh, the frustration.

Shortly after my conversation with Lieutenant Colclazure, I felt Reese's mental wall slam down so hard I literally jumped. There was a thick plate of durasteel in the center of my painting now, evidence that Reese had received some kind of order, some kind of assignment that precluded him from sharing even the slightest detail. Running my hands over that metal had left them cold, more proof that he was not acknowledging the bond at all. Not even to tell me that he couldn't talk to me at the moment.

Whatever it was, I was certain it tied into Colclazure's vague comment about our first major offensive against the rebellion beginning soon.

After that shift, I had retreated to my office to issue the orders to Forde and to complete my reporting for the day. An hour into that, Crewman Gilliam appeared in my office door, looking as pale and frightened as she had last night. The look I sent her at being interrupted didn't help her regain any composure. If anything, she looked as if she wanted to pass out at my feet. Ah, how I must have looked that first night reporting to Colclazure. Only she hadn't done anything wrong that I'd determined.

I, on the other hand, had done many things wrong that first day. So far she was a step ahead of me.

That didn't stop me from rising, though, and correcting her stance until she stood at true military attention. Nor did that stop me from keeping her there in that pose until I had finished my reporting, following that up with a quick lesson in proper military turns. It killed me a little inside to watch her struggle with it, to nearly see the ache setting into her shoulders and legs as she stood there for hours. I winced inside when I heard my voice crack through the office like Colclazure's had when Gilliam failed to complete even one proper turn. Everything in me wanted to sit her down and explain why I was doing what I was doing. But again, no one else was going to do that, and she had to learn the discipline on her own like I had, otherwise it wasn't going to do her any good.

I had no idea what her next officer was going to be like. For surely someone was transferring in to run the second shift after I transferred out. I couldn't have her growing attached to me. Like—

Like I had grown attached to Colclazure.

Telling him that over dinner had produced the most shocking of laughs from the man. It had been a shock to know that he could laugh at all, to be honest. I'd spent so much time afraid of him that hearing a rather normal laugh leave his lips was startling. And if Captain Pellaeon hadn't asked me to dine with him that one time, the thought of sharing a meal with Colclazure would have left me tongue-tied beyond belief.

Surprisingly, it was a rather enjoyable meal, and not because I got to select what I wanted to eat now instead of taking what was given. The tables in the officer's mess had real chairs with padding instead of hard benches, too. One of the perks of rank. It made me wonder how anyone would want to sit in the Slums at all.

Arik Colclazure was a surprisingly good conversationalist. He was single, had three brothers also in Imperial service—one older and two younger—and had wanted to serve the Empire since he was old enough to walk. His first love, like all young boys, had been the Stormtrooper ranks. However he'd developed a love of physics as he grew and applied to the Academy on his eighteenth birthday. His ambition shifting from the marines to a shipboard post.

He had a weakness for wine over whiskey, a love of music, and a near obsession for a Corellian sport called Phrenbi. It was one of his goals in life to attend a Phrenbi game on Corellia again after this war was over. Preferably wearing Captain's bars on his chest. And then he'd startled me again by asking what I wanted when this war was over, what prize I wanted to claim as my own.

"A ship," I said before I realized it. "I want a command of my own, but not in the Fleet. I want a permanent post around my homeworld, to lead its defenses."

"To protect everything you hold dear," he nodded, regarding me. "That's why I chose you over Forde."

I tipped my head to the side, chewing a bit longer than I had to in order to get over the surprise of that one. "Sir?"

"Arik," he corrected with a slight grin. "We are both officers now, Aria, and we are off duty. I saw something in your eyes that first day you swept onto the bridge like you owned it."

I couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Then I was doing better than I thought with my appearance. I was so nervous and scared and angry that I was sure I'd collapse at the first word spoken to me."

"No," he shook his head, chuckling himself. "You would not have buckled under pressure that easily. There's a fire to you, Aria, and determination. I saw it when you acknowledged your mistake and asked for help correcting it. I also noticed your intelligence in letting your pride take a backseat to what you needed to do."

I shifted uneasily under that kind of praise. "You are giving me credit for virtues I don't possess, Arik. I was terrified, and I still am. Back then my only goal was to survive, and now my goal is to make sure those under me survive, too."

"Welcome to the truth of command," he shrugged easily. "Ensigns don't have much real authority, but think of it as a training ground, a gateway to larger responsibilities. At the end of the day, we all want to survive, from crewman to Admiral. In the end, we want to make certain that all we love is protected for just a little bit longer."

"Like a fine wine and a good game of Phrenbi?"

He lifted his glass and clinked it to mine in a sort of salute. "Like art and a good game of sabbac, of which I hear are two of your weaknesses. Lieutenant Tschel mentioned that he saw you leaving a game hosted by a stormtrooper named Dabu Chib."

"My owning of that statement depends on one thing," I replied, sipping my caf.

"That being?"

"On whether the Lieutenant mentioned that as a negative mark against me, or because he was waiting to get in on the next hand."

"Knowing Tschel's love of the game, I think the negative mark would exist only if you failed to let him join in eventually."

We laughed together.

* * *

There was a second wall in my head by the time I reached my quarters. Tam had shut me out just as effectively as Reese, though Tam's wall still glimmered with a touch of warmth, the barest brush across my thoughts that let me know that he was okay. Buried in work and taking on an assignment that he could not share with me in any part. It made me wonder if his assignment had anything to do with Reese's, though I discounted that right away. The only thing Tam and Reese had in common—duty-wise—was to root out those touched by C'Baoth's influence.

And they needed me to help them with that. Didn't they? At least they did if they were trying to save the person in question. But what if they weren't? What if the Admiral had changed his mind and ordered executions instead? That would certainly require Reese's abilities, and Tam would be needed to formalize the investigation.

What was it that Colcla—I mean Arik—had said during our shift? That the Admiral was close to launching a major offensive against the Rebellion, and he wanted all ships to return to standard shifts and regulations. If I was to take that a step farther, it wouldn't be a small leap of logic to apply standards to what we were doing against C'Baoth. Reinstating ISB would legitimize the executions without anyone from Grand Moff to Crewman thinking twice about the orders, and Reese was well-trained in killing. Worse, he could now use the Force to determine if his target was touched by C'Baoth.

I didn't like any of those thoughts, and it showed as I hastily emptied my belt boxes of their contents. Comlink, data cards, and various other tools scattered on my desk, one skittering so far as to nearly tumble from the edge. It was the data card that the Admiral had given me nearly a month ago. The one I was supposed to have reviewed.

The one we were supposed to have a conversation about at my convenience.

I quickly slotted the card into my terminal, trying to rub the gritty feeling of sleep from my eyes. Images populated the screen, images of… _artwork_ of all things. There were no words to accompany the pictures, no indication of what species created these pieces. Though, if memory served, they looked like Sluissi. A few of the files had holo capabilities, and I projected those into the meager ribbon of walkway between the door and my bunk.

Yes, they were definitely Sluissi. At least the flame-like sculptures were. But why would the Admiral send me art to look at and study? Did it have anything to do with the painting in my head? Did he want me to incorporate touches of this artwork into the painting when I drew him in? No, that couldn't be right. He gave this to me before he knew I could draw him in, didn't he? I shook my head, feeling ashamed that I'd forgotten just when he'd given me this data. So much had happened between then and now.

I grabbed my data pad, checking my schedule for the next day. My shift didn't start until one in the afternoon now, bringing me closer to matching Tam's schedule. Yet my morning was filled with an oh nine hundred meeting with Grand Admiral Thrawn. A meeting that would run until noon, with no specifications as to what it was about. I sighed, glancing at the clock. It was nearly midnight. That gave me about two hours to learn as much as I could before needing to sleep. Running into a meeting with him, being unprepared and exhausted, was the last thing I needed to do.

Rubbing my eyes again, I built up my own wall in my head just in case, and started to learn as much as I could about the artwork floating before me.


	27. Chapter 27 A Second Boundary

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews, private messages, favorites and follows! Special shout out to **Admiral Mitth'raw'nuruodo**, **Hoplite39, **and **zedille ** for the lovely reviews. You'll always hear (or read) me saying this. The feedback is always helpful and appreicated.

Special thank you to **m4x70r** for the use of Jhan Miles, Captain Ronoe, and the ISD _Dark Star_ in this chapter. Reese also appears in chapters 9 and 10 of "To No Avail" if you want to read the bit where Reese and Miles met for the first time. It's worth it. :D

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

"Crew—Ensign Idelas to see Grand Admiral Thrawn," I said into the comm., mentally cursing at the near slip.

The last time I had stood before these doors I had been a simple crewman, a conscript terrified and broken and mourning. The last time I stood before these doors I had expected to walk into my own execution, and strangely enough I had come to peace with that idea. There had been no painting in my mind, only the blackness of my near slip to the Dark Side. It was still there, that black hole that sucked in all thought and emotion, buried beneath the stars that now decorated my mental canvas. But it was no longer the central focus of my life.

I was no longer that conscripted crewman afraid of my own shadow. No, I had learned that there were other shadows to fear that my own insecurities.

The doors hissed open, exposing the small anti-chamber that was as dimly lit as I remembered. I had about a half-second to brush aside the specters of my yesterdays and realign my thoughts to the present before stepping inside. The doors closed behind me, taking with it all the light. Dimness greeted my eyes, and I blinked a few times to adjust to the gloom. Not a meter ahead of me was the door to the Admiral's private meditation room, or secondary command room, or whatever it was that he needed it to be at the time. Behind that door the man, himself, waited.

I stood very still, however, my mind reaching outward before I could stop it. Rukh was there, standing behind me and off to my left though my eyes had not detected him. Gripped in his hand was that slender silvery blade, ever muscle in his body tensed to spring at me. I closed my eyes, kept my breathing even. If he wanted to kill me, if he had orders to do so, there was nothing I could do to stop him. I had seen him kill before. I knew his skill.

And for reasons I couldn't begin to understand, I rapidly stepped to the right and pivoted, slashing out and down with my left hand when I felt him come at me. It was a move Vyns had taught me in one of our training sessions and the flat of my palm connected sharply with the rock-like muscles of his wrist, forcing the blade wide of its intended sheath in my chest. I jumped back and ducked low, whipping out my leg to sweep his out from under him. He leapt above it, plunging down with that piece of metallic death at the crown of my head. The blade was sharp enough to cleave through my skull like it was nothing.

Both hands came up, once again to deflect the blow with the flat of one palm and simultaneously shove his chest with the other. But something was wrong. I felt it like a tingling in my spine that rushed up into my shoulders with maddening speed. Just as I somehow knew he was going to come at me in the beginning, I somehow knew he was going to change his angle, that his feet were going to kick at my face instead of stabbing me, sending me sprawling to the deck and rendering me unconscious.

Then I would die.

And miraculously I found the time to adjust accordingly, bringing the hand set to push his chest up higher still, blocking my face from those boots while the fingers of my other hand stiffed for a chop, waiting for him to fall into my path and his own momentum to crack his throat across the side of my hand. At his angle, he either had to abort his attack in mid-air or accept my wounds. He chose neither.

Rukh kicked off my arm and back flipped to a safe distance, landing with a flash of his needle-sharp teeth. A smile, I realized. The blade vanished up his sleeve, his hands splaying out to either side as he bowed. He wasn't so much as winded, while I… I was breathing hard and wondering just what in the Empire _that_ had been all about!

"Iskhander reported that you were progressing well with your training," Rukh said, as if reading my mind. "I wished to test the truth of that. I agree with him. Though next time do not remain kneeling after an adversary avoids your sweeping maneuver. It leaves you pinned and prone. Roll if you must and give ground, but assume a better position to attack. Otherwise, you merely prolong your death."

Iskhander? Who was… and then it connected in my head. Iskhander must be the name of the Noghri I had observed watching our discipline sessions with Reese.

I slowly rose to my feet, watching Rukh as if he might try to leap at me again at any moment. "Thank you," I said, glad my teeth weren't chattering. Performing a bow of my own. "For a moment, I truly thought you were trying to kill me."

"I was," he said simply, extending a hand towards the double doors leading to the Admiral's sanctuary. "You may enter now."

I stared into those unreadable dark eyes, feeling my jaw fall down a fraction. "Did… did the Admiral… uh, order this?"

"No," he answered. "It is my duty to protect my lord. That includes ensuring those that also serve in such an honored station are able to fulfill that duty. You are learning well. See that you continue to do so."

_Or else?_ I supplied silently, watching as he faded into the darkest shadow in the little room. There was a part of me that wanted to yell at him, to tell him I didn't want to be part of an honor guard. But most of me understood that such a choice was no longer mine to make. I had to own the fact that I'd touched the Admiral's mind. If I were in his position, as secretive and guarded with his plans as he appeared to be, I wouldn't let someone that had been in my mind run loose. I'd lock them away, or… or do as he was doing, finding a way to keep the person in question always under his watch.

Trusting me as much as he could without letting go of the proverbial leash. Or in this case, the s_hae'aln_.

I took a moment to straighten my tunic and cap, and put my thoughts back in order. To let my breathing return to something slightly less panicked than it was now. And then stepped up to the doors. They parted, revealing a softly lit art gallery. Though I'd seen him do this before with my own admittedly limited selection of paintings, it was still a shock. When one thought of a Grand Admiral, they thought of star charts and fleet formations and tactical projections. The last thing they thought of was art critic.

Then again, I never would have thought that Arik Colclazure loved classical music and rare wine vintages.

I stopped just inside the door, standing at full attention. Grand Admiral Thrawn sat in a replica of the Admiral's chair on the bridge, his eyes closed in the midst of meditation, the double display rings surrounding it now currently home to a plethora of different holographic statues. I recognized an Alderaanian latticework fragment, a Corellian sculpture of a man holding aloft a victory banner, and interspersed through the kaleidoscope of different species' art on display several of those flame-like Sluissi sculptures.

It all seemed to make little sense, no rhyme or reason to the choices and the layout, as if the Admiral had decided to display all the artwork he had found some pleasure in all at once.

"Rebellion art," I blurted without thinking, the pieces finally coming together in my head. "This is all art from species central to the Rebellion."

"Indeed it is, Ensign Idelas," he said, a slight smile forming on his lips. "Not very many would have put together that fact as quickly. I see you have finally taken the time to study the information I gave you."

"Yes, sir. Apologies for taking so long."

"No apologies necessary. I asked you to take your time. You may approach," he lifted a hand, waving me forward. "I trust that Rukh did not startle you too badly."

I was proud of the fact that I barely missed a step at that. Of course he would have observed my test. "No, sir."

He lifted an eyebrow, finally opening his eyes. "Truly?"

I stopped at the edge of the display, wincing only slightly. "It was alarming, sir, and frightening. But I am working on my trust issues and my mistakes. I understand that I would not be standing here right now if you wished to take my life. Remaining startled would be a waste of your time and mine."

"True," he replied, sitting up straighter as if giving me his full attention. "You have come a long way in a short amount of time, Ensign."

"Yes, sir. War does not allow for the easy path to become what we need to become."

Another lifted eyebrow at that, and again the feeling that I had said something truly interesting to him, something that registered with him on some level. "Indeed," he said again, eyes searching mine. "And you will be called upon to walk an even more difficult path before this war is over. Are you willing to do so?"

I squared my shoulders, nodding once. "There is no choice to make, sir. I will go where you ask me."

"There is always a choice, Ensign."

"Not for me, sir. I am committed to my course."

"And what is that, exactly?"

"To protect and serve the people of this ship and the Empire. That one day I may see my world free of war."

He steepled his fingers before him. "This is a departure from the course you chose when first stepping onto this ship. I seem to recall defiance in you, and a willful pride to do what you felt necessary, regardless of the rules."

A week ago I would have flushed red or gone pale at those words. That he had noticed me from the beginning was frightening enough, even with Colclazure's warning that I had caught the interest of the command staff before I was fully onboard the _Chimaera._ I would have lost myself in the words he was speaking, not necessarily the reasons why. And I definitely would have jumped at the chance to defend myself against what I felt were accusations.

But these weren't. These were statements of the past, things I had overcome. And this wasn't a conversation. This was an interview of sorts. As if he was asking me to justify the reason he made the decision to promote me.

"I have learned the error of my ways, sir," I replied truthfully. "Through discipline and the guidance of my superior officers, I have come to know the true motivations within my heart. I would see them carried out."

"And what are those motivations, Ensign Idelas?"

And there it was, the hidden barb. This time I saw it.

"In the short term, sir, to stop what C'Baoth is doing to the loyal members of the Empire," I said bluntly. "It is not my place to understand why you have allowed him to join the war effort, but it is my place to protect those on this ship from his unnecessary treatment of their minds. In the mid-term, I wish to rise to the rank of captain. In the long term, to use what I have learned in both pursuits to one day lead the defense teams around my homeworld, and keep those I love safe."

His eyes glittered for a moment. "And if your world does not want your protection?"

I surprised myself by shrugging my shoulders. "Irrelevant, sir. My world is part of the Empire now. The Empire's enemies are my enemies, and one would be foolish to think that a dislike of the Empire would spare my homeworld from its enemies. I will protect it and all I hold dear."

"Regardless of the rules?"

I took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "I have yet to reach that point in my career, sir. There is still time to learn what rules I will be facing, and what decisions I will have to make regarding them."

His lip twitched in that now familiar smile, the one that didn't reach his eyes. "Time may be shorter than you think, Ensign, but your logic is sound for the moment. What about your art?"

Again, I was very pleased with myself for not showing how much that question had thrown me for a loop. "I do not understand the question, sir."

His eyes searched mine, and I was reminded of the period just after Pieterson's death. The time where he had searched my eyes for something and had not found it. Or had found it, and it wasn't to his liking. This time, however, I think he found what he wanted, and this time I dared to hope that it pleased him.

"No, perhaps you don't," he said slowly. He reached over to a control on the arm of his chair. "Yet you are finally ready to understand some of things I want to show you."

The various pieces of rebellion art vanished, replaced by a literal forest of the tiny Sluissi flame sculptures.

"Do you know what it is that you see?"

"Sluissi flame sculptures," I answered immediately. "This selection here," I pointed to the grouping off to the left. "It is the first time the art style was developed. You can see the simplistic designs as compared to the later uses of the technique. Here, in the grouping to the right, you can see the most recent application of the style. It's much more complex but still harkens back to the original intent and feel of the sculpture."

He nodded. "And what is it that you feel when gazing upon them?"

I broke with protocol, glancing at him sideways. "Uh, sir?"

"It is a simple question, Ensign. Answer, please."

I licked my lips, letting my eyes dart over the flame-like artwork. "Bittersweet, Admiral. Each piece seems to represent two halves of a whole: life and death. A cycle that starts with birth in chaotic ignorance and grows into the complexities of life, then fades quietly into the ashes and shadows of death. It makes me feel… sorrowful but accepting at the same time."

I turned, dared to glance at him a second time. "Why are you asking me this, sir? What does this have to do with protecting you?"

"Is that what you think this is about, Ensign?"

"Yes, sir, if I may say so freely. You have expressed interest in my abilities to shield the minds of others from the touch of Force users. I will do so without the need of promotions, sir. I know there are many who are far more qualified to assist you as adjutant. Not that I am ungrateful for it, I should say. Apologies, this is not coming out of my mouth the way it should have."

He shook his head slightly. "Ensign, if I wished solely to keep the Force away from me, I could have relied fully on the ysalamiri. I would not have invested this much time in your training. While it is true that your newly developed abilities have altered my initial plans regarding you, it is not the full reason I wish you to serve as my adjutant. Now continue on your previous train of thought. Tell me why I believe it is of import to study this art."

I turned back the burning artwork, stepping into the sea of flames to get a closer look at each one. Each became more and more complex as the style evolved, showing a sharp incline into the cultural heart of the Sluissi species. They were a passionate and creative people, if this art had anything to say about them. Passionate and creative… and yet tied somehow to a notion of cyclical life and death. Not just of their species, but of the very slow change of seasons of their homeworld, of the holy points in their calendar. Everything revolved around a circle of life, tying them to a high activity in the summer portions and a near hibernation like state in winter months.

"Their world does not rotate, does it?" I asked. "Or if it does, its revolutions are extremely slow as compared to most worlds in the galaxy."

"The latter is correct. What else do you see?"

"There is a strong tie to that fact, sir. Everything is a cycle in each of these pieces. Life and death, summer and winter, light and dark… these are central points to the species philosophical development. So much so that it's almost like they are rigidly locked to these concepts, that it pervades even the slightest unconscious thought."

I spun back to him, it all finally making sense. And no amount of discipline could keep the shocked look from my face.

"You are going to attack them, aren't you? You use the art to figure out the best way to come at them, to win with the least amount of causalities to either side. And… and _that's_ why you trust me. Because you saw my own art. You studied me, have been studying me from the moment C'Baoth mentioned a painting in my mind. That's why you didn't have me killed when I touched your mind."

He merely inclined his head. "You were not ready to understand that until this moment, Ensign. I needed you to come to terms with your own defects of personality before we could move forward. You have done this, accepted your place in the Empire. Now you must work on accepting your place in my service."

I wanted to tell him that that wasn't true. I would accept and follow any order he gave because that was my duty to do so. But the memory of trying to run from him in my own head, of the disturbing familiarity to which he'd touched my soul in the turbolift, called that thought the pile of dreck it was. He hadn't been touching me to purely satisfy curiosity or to prove that he could as I had assumed. He was touching me because he had already done so through my art. He knew me better than I probably knew myself, had dissected my psyche with cool tactical detachment and picked me apart molecule by molecule until he understood every bit of me.

Until he knew exactly where to strike with the proverbial chisel, hammering away flaws and instilling strength where he felt I was lacking. I should have felt violated and betrayed. In some small part of me, I did. And that part of me hated him for it. But that was only in a small part, a tiny part that still had long hair and a desire to be a mere girl again.

I squared my shoulders, lifting my head in a proper form. And noticed for the first time that the ysalamiri was gone from this chair as well. I opened myself to the Force, reaching out for his mind. Determined to show him that I was committed to this act, this post. I was willing to let him touch me if I had to turn myself into stone to keep from running. I reached…

… and slammed hard into one of those invisible walls so hard I winced.

"No," he said, the word firm and yet not angry. "I will let you know when I wish to have that sort of contact. I know well that you have tried this as a show of loyalty and for that reason alone you will not be disciplined. We have now established a second boundary, Ensign Idelas. Do not cross it without my expressed permission. Period."

I let go of the Force, feeling like a blasted fool for even trying it. A dramatic child trying to show how grown up she was. "I understand, sir. It will not happen again. My apologies."

"Apology accepted," he replied. "As to your previous question, the answer is yes. There will be an attack in the Sluissi sector. In the winter months of their homeworld, as they will indeed be in a period of sluggish activity. You have done excellent in your first attempt at studying this particular species. Have you had the time to study the rest?"

"Briefly, sir, "I admitted. "I am doing my best to devote as much time to this as I can. New recruits to my station take time if they are to be trained properly."

"See that they are, Ensign. Lieutenant Colclazure has informed you that your services will no longer be required after that training period is complete?"

"Yes, sir. I do not know the exact nature of my next assignment, however."

"You are performing it right now. I want you to continue to study the information on that data card. Along with the Sluissi, I wish you to pay particular attention to the Corellian portion."

"Yes, sir. Is there anything in particular you wish me to look for?"

"Your initial impressions will do for the time being, Ensign."

* * *

The paint flowed across the metal canvas, my mind alive and burning with the need to create after that conversation with the Admiral. Being surrounded by so much art, so many different styles, and then being required to give a cold and unfeeling account as to the mental state of its creator, had left me feeling… empty inside. And that emptiness could only be filled with passion, with the drive to create something. As if in apology for turning someone else's creation into a weapon.

My fingers trembled as I tried to hold the brush steady. Red dripped from the bristles, caught on the tiny pallet. Reminding me that the brush wasn't the high quality organic that was my usual want back home, reminding me that not two hours ago Reese and Vyns had put us through our physical training. Like I, this was brush was crude, even if it was lovingly forged by patient and careful hands. I cherished it because Tam had taken the time to make it for me, to do his best with the materials he had available.

I had to wonder though, if the Admiral thought something similar about me. Was I a crude instrument in his hand, being shaped yet again for some purpose? The thought made me tremble.

Behind me, Reese's hand slipped gently under my uplifted arm, the flat of his palm pressing firmly on the underside of my wrist. Giving me support without restricting the movements necessary to create my art. He was tired, too, exhausted from whatever it was he and Tam had been doing. I wasn't privy to that assignment, just as they knew I had had a meeting with the Admiral today that I couldn't discuss, either. The weight of those secrets bore us down, made our training exercises that much more brutal this evening. So much so that barely a word drifted between us, either aloud or through the bond.

And yet Reese refused to return to bed until I joined him. Tam refused to return to his quarters until both Reese and I lay down to sleep. These were our stolen moments, our few chances to indulge in the bond we had taken for granted before. In the corner of my tiny room, Tam sat in the single chair, head lulling forward as he literally fell asleep reading whatever was on his datapad. He'd wake right before he tumbled forward, give himself a shake, and go back to trying to read.

I leaned back into the warmth of Reese's chest, feeling his breath against the side of my neck. Yes, these stolen moments were home now. More than this ship or our duties, or even the places we had come from. _This _was our home.

"Jhan Miles," Reese said softly, following the flow of my arm as I applied the paint. "I promised you a story about the man, did I not?"

I nodded, listening, enjoying this one simple moment with him. "Tell me about him."

He went quiet inside his head as was his way, gathering his thoughts about him like that hushed moment before the breaking of a storm. There was a second where I thought he would just project the memories to me and Tam. But it was clear this was something more personal, more intense. Something he was not willing to give to us in its entirety.

"Jhan was my first commanding officer after I graduated the Academy," he began. "My first assignment was onboard the _Dark Star_, a star destroyer under the command of Captain Ronoe."

Tam perked up at that, giving himself a vigorous shake in an attempt to chase away the dregs of fatigue. "Wasn't that one of the ships present at the battle of Endor?"

I lifted an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"

Tam smirked. "You aren't the only one studying military history, Ari. A lot of the Captains that commanded their ships during Endor are most likely in command of them today."

"So you're putting together a listing of ships and Captains that are still out there? I would have thought that information in the databanks."

He shook his head, sighing slightly. "You would think that, but the answer is no. The Fleet fragmented after the defeat at Endor. Many of the less than honorable Captains tried to carve out pieces of the Empire for themselves, or fought one another for the right to command entire lesser fleets. It was madness. Many have yet to report in. I tell you, Ari, if I had the leaders of the Rebellion right in front of me right now, I'd probably lose my mind screaming at them. This whole galactic mess is their fault. What sort of idiots just waltz in and kill the leader of a bad organization but leaves the lieutenants to run around and cause worse chaos in its wake? They should have gone about it in a different way, a better way."

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. The anger, the bitterness at a mess he felt was his responsibility to clean up, flooded the bond until I wanted to take his face in my hands and make him stop. Just stop.

"I'm sorry," he said, reigning in his frustration. "I shouldn't have said as much as I have. I'm tired and I'm rambling and I'm interrupting your story, Jad. Please continue."

Jad… as in short for Jadrek? I glanced from one to the other, again feeling this strange sort of sad disconnect. Tam had a nickname for Reese and yet I didn't, and I was sleeping with the man. I tried to chalk it up to jealousy alone and failed miserably. The paintbrush lowered in my hands, dipping into the darkest black and mixing with the deep blue. That I worked into the wet crimson on my canvas, creating the deep purple of hurt before I realized it.

Hurt always looked like purple to me. Like an ugly bruise that never quite faded away.

Tam cursed softly, tossing the datapad aside. "Ari…"

"No, it's fine," I said, marginally successful in swallowing my emotions. "Okay, it's not fine. But I understand it at least. We are working on such different assignments now. It's not the three of us against C'Baoth. It's you two, now. It's pretty clear that the Admiral does not want me connected to anything that has to do with that madman."

"Can you blame him? You've touched the Admiral's mind, Ari. Whether on accident or because he wanted you to, you've done that. He won't want to risk even the slightest cross contamination by exposing you to the monster after that."

Did they think I didn't know that? Stars, the events of this morning had made it so I would never forget that fact. Ever. "So I get put in a big bubble."

"No," he shook his head. "You get protected. You stay at his side and you protect him in return. That's what we need you to do right now. That's what he wants you to do."

That was only a small part of what he wanted, I amended silently. But I wasn't allowed to tell them that.

I switched the brush in my hand for the pallet knife and added a thick sharp black line, neatly bisecting the purple. A shift of my wrist rolled that paint downward, scraping it across the canvas. Creating the illusion of depth, of the formation of a vast chasm against an angry indigo sky. And suddenly I wasn't making a mess of the canvas, I was painting what was in my heart.

"Reese is right," I said aloud. "I have the Admiral's trust. And not every assignment is going to include all of us at the same time. I need to accept that. I need to get over this fear of losing you both."

"You'll never lose us, Ari," Tam said fiercely, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I don't give a kriff what assignment I'm on or where it takes me in the future. We started this whole thing to protect ourselves. Somewhere along the way we started to add the things we love into that protection. And now we find ourselves protecting an entire Empire. So long as we don't lose track of that, we'll never lose each other."

I waited for Reese to interject, to throw out a comment about how naïve we were being, how future experience would teach us the truth of ourselves. He said nothing, and through the bond I felt deep approval of what Tam had just said. A Force equivalent to a nod of agreement. Though I did feel his arm tighten about my waist, felt myself pulled more solidly against his chest. Protectiveness, and a fierce desire to keep me as his own, practically pouring from his skin. It was only for a second, but it let me know that there was a tiny kernel of fear inside this mountain of warrior behind me. Not a fear that I would leave him.

But that I would be taken away from him.

And I knew in that moment that I was the only one he allowed to feel that part of him. He'd managed to wall that emotion from Tam without me seeing the divider within my head. He was getting better at that, and I realized why he worked himself so hard against Tam and I in our practice sessions. We were better at using the Force than he was, and so he battled us within our minds while we battled him in the flesh. In essence we all trained each other on the things we lacked.

I let myself lean back against Reese again, my head tilting to the side until my cheek rested on Tam's hand.

"This is my deepest fear," I said aloud. "I can't lose you both."

"Then you must train yourself to let go of us," Reese answered quietly. "Recognize your fear, little one, and remove it. Otherwise it is a weakness that can and will be used against you."

"Was that something this Jhan Miles taught you?"

"Yes."

Tam gave my shoulder one last squeeze, and leaned back in the chair. His eyes were heavy again, and this time it had nothing to do with sleep and everything to do with the widening gulf between us all. Inwardly I cursed, hating that I added more stress to him instead of taking it away. That's not what these meetings were supposed to be about.

I dipped the knife back into the paint, selecting the purest of white and mucking it up with the color of hurt. Jagged lightning flashes rent the sky, thick dirty angry strikes with knife-edged tendrils of regret. And within myself, I bottled up that pain and upset and fatigue and worry and everything else that I felt. I fashioned a label for it that looked exactly like this painting, setting it on my shelf with all the other bottles of sorrow. Because I couldn't let it run free, couldn't let it spill across Tam or Reese.

And absolutely, under no circumstances, could I allow it to fall into the black hole of the Dark Side that lurked beneath my stars.

"Jhan Miles," Reese began again. "He was the commander of the units under Captain Ronoe. As I said before, I was a Private fresh from the Academy. My first assignment on board the Dark Star was to assist in the capture of a rebel vessel. This vessel was a weapon of sorts that the Lord Darth Vader wanted in his hand."

I felt my jaw drop at the same time Tam blurted. "You met the Lord Vader?"

"Yes," Reese nodded, the fingers of his hand wrapping quickly around my wrist, catching me before I jerked in surprise. Effectively saving the painting from destruction as my brush was starting to add raging waters to the base of the chasm. He smiled slightly. "Do you wish to know about him?"

I said "no" at the same time Tam said "yes." And then corrected myself and said "yes" at the same time Tam interjected a "no." We stared at each other, Tam blushing slightly as he grinned, and I? Giggled. Giggled like a mad loon at something that was beyond impossible to find humorous. No one laughed at the memory of Lord Vader. No one. Period. Perhaps it was the fatigue in me, the stress, but I had a vision of Tam and I having this exact conversation right in front of the Dark Lord.

I couldn't help but giggle. Reese laughed as the image floated across the bond, that full open laugh that I loved so much.

And just like that, the tension was gone. The fatigue was still there, the resentment at doing what we had to do apart from one another, and all the other horrific emotional bags we all carried now. But at least resentment towards each other was off the list.

"What was it like, being near him?" Tam asked, the only one of us still in a position to speak.

Reese lowered his head to mine, burying his face in my hair, my scent, as if to use me to ground himself back in reality. "He was terrifying," he said at last, glancing back up at the painting. "I did not know it then, but I felt him before I saw him. I felt the wave of darkness, of blackened hatred and burning wrath. Resentment so strong it filled my lungs with ice. I have only felt that sort of fear one other time in my life."

His hand left my wrist, fingertips touching my cheek, tracing that nonexistent scar where C'Baoth had scratched me in what felt like a lifetime ago. We hadn't been together when that wound had taken place, but we were together when the Admiral had called me into his presence after Pieterson had died. I knew he referred to that moment when I was full of pain and fear, and had vanished from the bond the instant I crossed into the ysalamiri zone.

It had scared him, so much so that he'd ran all the way from the readyroom he'd been in to the Admiral's meditation chamber.

I turned my face in his hand, kissing his palm. Feeling his fingers caress a moment before letting go. And again I was struck with this feeling from him, that I would be taken away. It was his fear, the thing he needed to learn to let go. The thing he wasn't ready to face just yet.

"Commander Miles was present during that initial meeting. He saw something in me, something worth training," Reese continued. "After we transferred two prisoners to ISB hands, two men that decided to join the Rebellion from within our own ranks, he pulled me aside. I was not as strong as I am now, you see. I was always tall, but not always as strong. After feeling the gaze of Lord Vader weighing and measuring me, I was certain I had been found lacking, that my Commander had come to expel me from the unit. It was the opposite.

"He had never seen a fresh recruit hold up that well under the Dark Lord's stare, he confessed to me later. Because of that, and because of personal reasons he would not state, he had taken an interest in me. He pushed me to the point of breaking nearly every day, until my body transcended the hurt to numbness and then to nothingness. But I learned at his side, listened to his philosophies on the difference between a mercenary, a fighter, and a true warrior. 'A fighter takes up a challenge because he can, and tries to win it with strength. A warrior takes up a challenge because he must, and his greatest weapons are his heart and his mind.'

"The rite of passage I spoke of, the running of the obstacle course with the armor of your unit on your back, was something I learned from him. It was to remind us that death was the easiest thing to face, but honor and duty were heavier than a planet. He pushed me until I could carry that honor, that duty. Until I could feel it even when the armor was off my shoulders."

"That's why you push us so hard," Tam said quietly.

Reese nodded. "Through our own actions, we now carry the honor and the duty of everyone touched by C'Baoth. We must always be aware of it, feel it on our shoulders. Or we will forget what it means, and lives will be lost."

"And if we are selfish and stubborn," I added, grimacing a bit. "If we put our own desires over that duty, we'll drop all that armor and our honor with it."

"Hence, we need to let go of what we fear to lose," Tam finished, frowning thoughtfully.

I glanced at what I had created—at what we three had created together, even though it was my hand holding the brush—and saw that I had neglected to fill in a tiny slender portion of the chasm bottom. That part was untouched by the raging waters, that patch of ground unbroken from lightning strikes. The chasm sheltered it, the craggy walls extruding to cover it from harm. In that sheltered little alcove, I added a tiny diamond made of light. Painted its brilliance so that while it could not eclipse the storm that raged around it, neither could it be destroyed by it.

It represented our promise. To each other, and to the people we tried so hard to save.

"Tell me about Endor," I asked softly. "I want to see it through your eyes."

He smiled again, placing a kiss against the crown of my head. "Alright. I will tell you what I can."


	28. Chapter 28 - A Clouded Vision

A/N: I'm a bad author for neglecting this story for so long. You have my apologies. And my thanks for those of you that read, review, send private messages, follow and favorite it. :) Special thanks to **m4x70r, Herra Tohtori, Admiral Mitth'raw'nuruodo, chisscientist, zedille,** and **Hoplite39** for the reviews! I hope this latest chapter doesn't disappoint.

Also a lovely shout-out and thank you to Hoplite39 for allowing me to borrow the main character, LC-9087, from Loyal soldier of the Empire - Journal of an Imperial Stormtrooper for this chapter. The story is wonderful and you should absolutely check it out. :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

The dream roiled before me, a liquid amorphous thing like wild colors all poured into the same mixing bowl. Only they weren't blending like they should. They… twisted around one another, a tangle of threads that had slipped the loom, fraying from their original purpose and distorting the tapestry they were supposed to be weaving. As a consequence, planets fell from their orbits or elongated in a way that made my stomach shudder. Ships ceased to exist or crashed into each other, stars collided and exploded or merged into something so strong its gravity wells consumed everything in its path.

Nothing I could do would correct it. I could not paint in threads, nor had I any talent in weaving. All I could do was grasp the ends and hold on tightly, trying to prevent the future from unraveling before my eyes. Yet each thread I grasped split into hundreds more, pulling away from me or wrapping around me as the galaxy plunged ever faster into chaos.

Above me, above the sea of turmoil and death and destruction, a dual image of the Admiral stood. One wore the golden crown, the other the mask of blood. Both smiled with the same slightly cruel tilt to those perfect lips. And I knew then that both represented victory, only in different ways. The one wearing the crown represented physical victory. The one wearing the blood represented a dark satisfaction. As if mocking the dying worlds and mounting chaos for extinguishing his life. For he could have prevented all this.

He_ should_ have prevented all this.

But the galaxy had not listened, had not formed up behind his banner.

He had died. The galaxy had had to defend itself.

And so many had perished. Whole worlds swallowed by darkness. Whole species eradicated. Because he wasn't there to stop it from happening.

I screamed, begged. Pleaded for him to help me now. I couldn't hold all these threads together. I couldn't let go of the ones I held without letting those planets fall into darkness, into a state of uncreation. But in doing so I was damning other worlds to that fate. I howled in my sorrow, in my pity and in my terror.

The crown of golden life offered a hand out to me, fingers peeling back from the palm to show me a weeping Coruscant, crystalline tears falling from its orb-like surface like fear made tangible. The crown of death mirrored its twin, fingers opening to offer me cold congealing blood, the sludge-like substance dripping thickly through pale blue fingers. Within the blood something stirred, something that looked human but moved with unnatural jerky motions. Something that lifted clawed fingers in my direction, that severed each thread one by one even as I tried desperately to hold it all together.

Something that bore the hissing, bloated face of Cris Pieterson.

Both Tam and Reese were gone from my room when I woke, my screams rebounding back to me like empty echoes. I clung to the cold sheets, terrified to move, to breathe. My head throbbed, a rawness to my throat that let me know I'd been screaming long before conscious thought returned to me. I had not the courage to get up, to grab for the glass of water on the shelf next to my bunk. To so much as mentally reach for the two walls I knew were strong in my mind.

They were both hard at work, the emotions wafting from those walls nothing but pure determination to accomplish their assignments. I dared not reach to touch the wall. Stars knew that, in my current emotional state, I'd start clawing at them, begging for even an ounce of warmth to soothe my tortured soul. With my luck, they would be engaged in taking down another of C'Baoth's pawns. My weakness would distract them and they could possibly fail in saving a life.

Instead, I took a deep breath and… pushed… my meager power in their direction. I let it flow from me like cool water, trying not to wince as my own form weakened in response. I expected that power to break upon their walls, to flow uselessly around them. I meant it in a show of support for their work, an apology that I had not supported them in the past.

Instead, those walls absorbed it all, sucking it in so much that I jerked upright on the bed, back bowing and hands fisting into the blankets. I couldn't breathe, felt the oxygen I pulled into my lungs sucked into the walls. They needed it. Stars, they needed it. They battled harder than they ever had before on their own. For the first time ever, they took instead of asked, their wolf-forms in the painting lapping at the water until their muzzles were soaked through, until it dripped from jaws like the blood of a fresh kill.

My mouth opened again in a soundless scream as their power rushed through me, looping back out to fill them again, so much stronger than before.

Oh stars, I'd done exactly what I should have avoided. I'd trespassed by accident, without knowing how I'd done it. There was so much about the Force that none of us knew or understood. Each time I touched it, it was like trying to paint an object without knowing what it looked like, what it was made of, or how the light hit it. And now I was locked in, unable to pull away once they started using my power.

Images of their battle superseded my reality. They were going after Lieutenant Commander Sarsteen, a man so deep into C'Baoth's maddening influence that I could not find his natural shape in the painting. The wolves snapped and snarled, leaped and clawed at the nothing that was Sarsteen's being. I literally could not see him, because there was nothing left of him in that body.

Nothing left but C'Baoth.

The wolves seemed to notice it at the same time I did, both Tam and Reese cursing. That monster, that bastard that claimed to be the only true Jedi Master, slowly opened his eyes in the nothing that wore Sarsteen's body.

_At last you come to me, Aria Idelas. At last you reveal yourself. Kneel before me, my child. Come to me now, and I will forgive you your attacks against my servants. Come to me… and your destiny._

The darkness that I'd touched by accident on the day of Pieterson' death, the portal in my soul to the Dark Side, boiled to the top of my painting. It started to eclipse everything, eating all the light from the stars, feeding from my fear and C'Baoth's own twisted call. I stared down into the blackest night, into something darker than the blood that had run from the Admiral's hands in my dream, and—

The wolf-Reece lunged, catching the nothing that was Sarsteen in the throat and violently ripping it out. Pure blood, red living blood, sprayed from the torn arteries, the spinal column so white and glittering among all that blood and raw meat. It took me a moment to realize that they'd seen the same thing, felt the same call from C'Baoth that I had. And the real Reese had whipped out his knife in an instant, slicing Sarsteen's throat so deep he'd nearly severed the man's head from his neck.

The connection to C'Baoth vanished, the darkness evaporating with the last spurt of Sarsteen's lifeblood.

_What are you doing, little one?_ Reese growled in my head, warm smoky anger in his tone. _You were not to help us engage this enemy._

I flinched, and found no help from Tam to combat this. His mind was cold, furiously icy to mirror Reese's rising heat.

_I—_

_You jeaporize yourself!_ He snapped. _You are no longer part of this unit. Did the Admiral not make that perfectly clear to you? You serve him, not us._

_That's just it, Reese! Soemthing is wrong. Something… in the dreams—_

_No,_ he sent so coldly I nearly jumped. _That is no excuse. I reiterate: you serve the Admiral. If there is something amiss, you tell him. Aria, you MUST understand this, or you will follow Pieterson into that early grave._

I shuddered, unconsciously sending him the image of that thing crawling from the Admiral's hand. Felt Tam jerk both mentally and physically.

_Reese, _Tam interjected. _She had a right to reach for us after a vision like that. Especially after we told her to never keep these dreams a secret again._

I felt Reese round on Tam, felt all that smoldering rage turn towards the other man. _Did she? And if C'Baoth had touched her mind, if she had fallen into that blackness, what then? Do you think the Admiral would have forgiven her so easily?_

I closed my eyes, trying to calm my racing heart, trying to push away the shame of my own weakness, the anger rising in me at his cold words. _Reese has a point. It was stupid of me, childish even, to think that things hadn't changed between us all. I interrupted a mission because I needed to feel coddled. You have my apologies, Lieutenant, Ensign. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to prepare for my day._

_Little one—_

_What?_ I snapped this time, embarrassment and hurt floating between us before I could stop it. _Just scan me and make sure there's no sickness in my mind, Reese. Aside from my own cowardice and stupidity, that is._

_He did not touch you, little one. I cut the connection before he could taint any of us. That wasn't what I wanted to say._

_Then what?_

_Remember my story about Endor. Think on it today. It may help you to understand._

_Understand what?_

_The next step you have to take._

* * *

Reese's stories about Endor and Commander Miles chased round and around in my head, my mind trying to puzzle through the meaning of each word. Reese, while part of our bond, wasn't the most open of individuals in the galaxy. He spoke when there was reason to speak, otherwise he remained silent. And he never, ever, went into details about his past unless the reason was particularly good.

Or in this case, a lesson needed to be learned. I just had to figure out what that lesson was.

These thoughts served as my companion as I watched Crewman Gilliam move through the drills I had assigned her. Thus far, she had her military turns down pat. It was her marching that needed work. There was a lack of focus in her that I had precious little time to remove before she was handed to those that would literally beat it out of her. And that lack of focus, I was coming to understand, was her way of rebelling against her fate.

Unlike Pieterson, her rebellion manifested in depression rather than anger. I wasn't sure which was worse.

She hated it here, loathed her service to the Empire with every fiber of her being. And when her mind wasn't occupied with challenging situations that made her forget her depression, she let her mind wander. Most likely retreating to some happy memory before conscription became her reality. My challenge was to find a way to make her accept her service, or recommend that she be replaced. Best case in that scenario, she found herself serving out her conscription in some backwater post. Worst case… she got to have a conversation face to face with Pieterson in the afterlife.

It all came down to my evaluation of her worth. And I wasn't quite ready to give up on her yet.

"Stop," I said, unable to stand this sham of a marching session anymore. "What are you thinking?"

Gilliam blinked at me, fear starting to swim through her liquid eyes. "Sir, I was thinking about your orders, sir. How to put one foot in front of the other and…"

She trailed off, probably at the way I arched an eyebrow at her. "Take a lap around the track, crewman. Maybe by that time, you'll understand why it's a bad idea to lie to your superior officer."

"Sir, I—"

"Make it two for attempting to disobey your superior."

"S—"

I folded my hands behind my back, pumping as much frost into my gaze as I could. Considering my lingering headache and the fact that I was still riding the waves of anger from my fight with Reese, it was a lot. "Shall we make it three, crewman?"

Resentment started to burn in those eyes, but her mouth closed firmly. "No, sir."

"Then begin."

"Yes, sir."

I watched her salute me crisply, formally, all her anger thrown into that action. Even her military turn was filled with indignation that I would dare accuse her of lying or that I would dare take away her one escape from this hell. That I would force her to pull free of her fantasies of escape and accept her reality. All I could do was shrug a shoulder, mildly upset at my own callous feelings towards her predicament. Again, there was nothing I could do for her, and my time was precious these days. After I had finished with her, I was to instruct Crewman Olden in the same way. And then an orientation with the two new crewman—one that would replace Forde on his shift and another to serve as reserve as necessary. Fully trained transfers from another ship and willing enlistees, thank the Empire. But still another slice of my time carved away from me.

And then there was a meeting with Midshipman Forde to review his progress on Lieutenant Colclazure's reports. And then my own punishment session with Reese, Tam, and whatever other member of Reese's unit that happened to join us.

I glanced at my shiny new wrist chronometer, a gift from Colclazure, himself, and bit back a sigh. It looked like I was going to spend another evening chewing on ration bars in my quarters. There would not be enough time to grab a proper meal in the mess hall. Not if I wanted to stay current on the art work that the Admiral kept sending me. This latest batch was a mishmash of different mid and outer rim planets, all human artists from fairly lucrative worlds. It made me wonder what he wanted me to find.

There was a pattern to it. Granted, I only had time to glance at the file thus far, but there was definitely a pattern. Just like there was a lesson in Reese's words. His story about that first night on Endor, the near fist-fight between himself and Commander Miles… it held significance. I was certain of it. I just had to figure it out.

"Be careful of that one," a male voice said quietly from behind me. "She's trouble."

It took all my control not to jump, to maintain my composure. The weight of my uniform fabric, the tightness of the belt around my waist rather than the formless jumpsuit, helped me remember who I was and what I was doing. Even if I had just committed the same offense that I had set Gilliam to running laps over—not paying attention.

I made a mental note to include three laps around the track either before or after Reese's session. I was not going to be one of those officers that punished flaws in others and ignored my own. I was not!

I gave a slow five-count before I turned my head. The man that moved up to stand next to me could have been a clone of almost every faceless officer I'd passed in the halls. His hair was brown. Not highlighted or golden, or even dark. It was just… brown. His eyes were hazel, tending towards the blue side, but not in a way that was uniquely striking. His build was normal for that of a stormtrooper—heavily muscled but not in a way that made him seem obscene.

Other than that, he could have blended in to any street in any city on any planet. There was nothing remarkable about him other than the way he stood, his shoulders so properly straight that mine ached to look at them. And I thought I had mastered that stance, that way to look at ease even when standing at such perfect attention your toes went numb.

I had nothing on this man.

He reminded me very much of Dabu Chib. Only, there was a glint in Dabu's eyes that was always slightly playful. Like he had a running monologue of jokes going through the background of his thoughts. This man had eyes that focused too intently for my tastes, but again there wasn't anything overtly threatening in that stare. It was just… intense.

If I hadn't already had enough experience with stormtroopers to pick one out of a crowd, the all black uniform of the Imperial Army and the rank bar on his chest proclaimed it loudly enough.

"Staff Sergeant," I greeted formally, properly. And was slightly relieved to see the man nod once.

"Ensign Idelas."

I blinked. "You have the advantage, Sergeant. I do not know your name."

A tiny smile touched his mouth, one that I thought was a bit bitter. "You do not need to know my name. All you need to know is that I am, and always will be, a loyal servant of the Empire."

It had a rehearsed feeling to it, that statement, though not of a level intended for amusement. No, it had the ring of a mantra, something someone said to themselves in the mirror every morning before setting about their duties. I suppressed a shiver. Seemed today was my day to not catch a single break.

Still, he was an enlisted man, and I was a full officer. The lowest possible full officer, but that was still ranks above an enlisted. And as Reese had all but screamed at me this morning, I had better start thinking and acting like the officer I was.

"Very well, Sergeant," I replied, letting my voice take on the unimpressed tones favored by the senior bridge officers. "Is there something I can do for you?"

That tiny smile faded. "Yes. When you are finished with this recruit, you can join me on the practice mats. I am here under the orders of my superior to instruct you in combat training."

That had an ominous sound to it. "Reese sent you?"

The smile was gone, the darkness attached to it transforming into the glare that filled his eyes. "That is Lieutenant Reese, Ensign. When under my instruction, you will use proper Imperial protocols. More to the point, you will live, breathe and respect it. Is that clear?"

I felt my face go rigid, a faint blush of embarrassment rising into my cheeks. The temerity of this man, to dress me down in front of my own crewman—

I flicked a glance to the track, noticing with more than a little relief that Gilliam's run had her on the other side of the room at the moment. There was no way she could have heard any of that. And when I glanced back at this man, there was amusement mixing with the glare in his eyes. He'd waited on purpose until my "recruit" was on the other side of the room before correcting me.

It made me like him a little. Not much, and certainly not enough for me to want to have anything to do with him, but it did instill some respect. He was right in correcting me, even if I held the superior rank. It was a poor officer indeed that did not listen to those beneath them who had more experience in certain areas.

"Apologies, Sergeant," I said, snapping to formal attention. "It will not happen again."

The look in his eyes said that he expected it to happen again and again. Worse, that he expected nothing but failure from me. But he was slightly pacified.

"How long until you are finished with your instructions, Ensign."

Reflex had me wanting to glance at the chronometer again. Instinct let me know this man would see that reliance on a timekeeper as a weakness. Stars, staring into his eyes was like staring into Reese's that first time. Cold, emotionless, rational to the point of frightening. And calculating as well, as if he had already mentally taken me apart and assessed all my flaws with one glance.

Darkness gathered in those hazel eyes again, and I realized that I'd taken too long to respond.

"Fifteen minutes, si—Sergeant."

"Make it ten. I do not have all shift to wait for you to be ready. War does not cling to timetables simply because we wish it."

"Fifteen," I said, causing him to turn to me swiftly. "I will not sacrifice the training time of my subordinates to pander to an ego. War does not gloss over shoddy training simply because a nameless stormtrooper wishes it."

He stared at me, the possible thoughts and reactions flipping through his eyes. When that miniscule smile returned to his lips, it was a touch less bitter, a touch more amused.

"You may call me LC-9087 if you prefer a more personal form of addressing me over my rank," he inclined his head again, almost as if with respect. "Will that suffice?"

"Why not your name?"

"Because it does not matter in comparison to my service to the Empire. Nor should it matter to you. We are not here to make friends, Ensign. We are here to serve with honor."

I could see that I would get nowhere with him tonight, or rather he did not care enough about me yet to let me try. So all I did was nod in return. "Very well, Sergeant LC. I will see you in fifteen."

"Thirteen," he corrected, turning and striding towards the practice mats. "You wasted time trying to argue with me, Ensgin. And pay attention to your recruit. She will finish her laps shortly."

I jumped again as Crewman Gilliam sped past me on the track, close enough that her shoulder nearly touched mine. I fought not to glare, though now I wasn't certain which one had earned it.

* * *

The walls in his mind shifted again as his thoughts changed track. I tried to keep up, to step to the side and anticipate where the next wall would fall. It was like trying to dodge blaster fire while blindfolded, while in a vacuum. There was no sound, no warning, no shadow of a hint of moment. Just all of a sudden a wall was there, partitioning this thought from me or closing off that memory. I hit one of those walls head-on, my insides shaking with the impact, feeling as if I had been very much hit by a sightless, soundless blaster bolt.

He frowned. I could feel it more than see it. _Your attention flags today, Ensign Idelas._

_Apologies, sir,_ I thought to him, walking just one step behind him through the forest of artwork that dotted his meditation chamber.

We were practicing the connection at the same time he was teaching me to be his adjutant. I had to be familiar with the way he moved, the tiniest of things that would catch his attention. Likewise, I had to keep Rukh in view, also anticipate the things that would set the Noghri into motion. Otherwise I wouldn't be able to dodge out of the way, nor would he spare the time to let me. He'd strike me down and leap over my dead body to protect the Admiral if I so much as partially stood in his way.

All this, while maintaining the shield around his mind. While partitioning away the parts of my mind that were Tam, Reese and my own personality. All this while "listening" to his thought patterns rather than his verbal commands.

He came to a stop, turning to me. Curiosity mingled with the barest smidge of concern displayed across the red of his thoughts. A mental image of his hands upon the chain linking the _shae'aln_ between us, pulling me closer. Trust, it seemed to mean, trust and an invitation to speak freely.

_I failed today_, I confessed.

_Did you, now?_

_There has been a…_ "Sir," I vocalized. "A question, if I may?"

"Proceed."

"I… report directly to you now, in all aspects of my duties?"

The feeling of curiosity increased, and surprisingly without a warning. "Aside from your work for Lieutenant Colclazure, that would be correct."

I took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "There has been a development in the Force. I must make you aware of it."

His lips pursed for a moment and the nodded.

I almost took a step forward, almost reach out to touch his hand. And then thought better of it. Instead, I took a step back, and then another. And then another. Until I was at the very edge of my limited range. It wasn't more than four feet away from him, sadly. Still, I took that final step back, and forced myself to push my boundaries, to share with him the mutated dream and the near contact with C'Baoth. To pull one victory of increased ability out of a veritable sea of disappointments this day.

He frowned, tilting his head to the side as if listening with difficulty to something far in the distance. I closed my eyes, throwing all I had into that contact, opening all of me to him. His face smoothed, and after the images had been transferred, I felt my shoulders slump, felt sweat beneath the brim of my uniform cap.

"Very good, Ensign," he replied, his tone nearly distracted.

Pleased that I'd worked hard to expand my range, though running through the data I'd given him. I gritted my teeth behind my lips, resigning myself to trying to dodge the lightning-like shifting of his mental walls. Trying to familiarize myself with something so alien and invisible and fast. It was like trying to run through a maze where the walls were not only invisible, but changed all the time.

"I see," he said at last, eyes coming back to mine. "There was failure present, though not in the manner Lieutenant Reese seems to believe."

"Sir?"

"Resume our walk, Ensign."

"Yes, sir," I replied, falling back into step with him.

"You were correct to report the shifting of your visions to someone," he said. "And the Lieutenant was correct in that your timing was off. You should not have interfered with their mission. And yes, in matters of this particular aspect of your duties, you report directly to me. Do you know what this dream means?"

A hesitation in those shifting walls, one I was able to recognize. One I was able to glimpse between, to see the strange alien ships from my dreams. To realize that recognized them.

"Yes," he said into my startled silence. "I know of this threat. My people have engaged them once in our past. The Emperor referred to them as the 'Far Outsiders.'"

I swallowed hard, inwardly staring at something that had not necessarily shaken the Admiral, but had caused him great concern. "They are a superior threat?"

"They are the only true threat, Ensign," he corrected. "Though I would not label them superior. They call themselves the Yuuzhan Vong."

Something in that name rang true, like an pulsing echo in the Force that reverberated back to me. Something dark that filled me with dread. "If they are the only true threat, should we not be concentrating on defeating them rather than the rebellion?"

"They have not found this portion of the galaxy, I do not believe. Otherwise, we would not be having this conversation. There is time yet to finish our preparations. Tell me, Ensign, what was one of the first lessons Lieutenant Colclazure taught you in regards to multiple enemies?"

I felt my face warm slightly. I should have known better than to ask that. "Never fight a war on multiple fronts."

"Indeed correct. When faced with multiple opponents, what is the best course of action?"

"Seek out those that are easiest to defeat first, those that do not drain your resources too strongly, and that provide the most strategic advantage once you have taken their positions from them."

But there were so many threats facing the Empire right at the moment, I realized somewhat dazed. Where did one begin? With C'Baoth? With the Rebellion? With this unknown race of invaders?

"Calm yourself, Ensign," Admiral Thrawn admonished gently, taking his command seat once more. Mildly disappointed that I'd forgotten the link between us, that I'd shared my thoughts unconsciously. "I am aware of the threats we face. Answer my original question, please. What is your interpretation of this latest vision?"

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "That the future is not set anymore. We have passed through or are moving towards certain pivotal events that will determine our future."

"My thoughts as well," he confirmed. "I believe it was Jedi Master Yoda that stated the future was very difficult to see. Always in motion, it is. The trick shall be determining where and when these pivotal events will take place. Regardless, I shall take your words under advisement, Ensign. Thank you for bringing this to my attention."

He tapped a few keys on his command chair, and the artwork shifted again. "For the meantime, we have other pressing concerns. We will be arriving on Mrykr in the morning and you will accompany me to the surface. This sculpture, here, what does it tell you?"

I opened my eyes again, immersed into the dual world of red unseen shifting walls, and floating artwork. The Admiral was right. There was time enough to worry about unknown fears and enemies. For now, there was work to be done…


End file.
